Everything In Between
by Larissa Fae
Summary: Post-TDK, AU, Joker/Rachel, sequel to Speak & Sing. Following the events in Sing, Jack's back in Arkham. With the help of her friends, Rachel needs to keep her life from falling apart.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hello, my darlings! It was voted elsewhere that people didn't mind intermittent updates, so as soon as I finished chapter 1, posted it. _Everything In Between_ isn't going to be updated as quickly as _Speak_ or _Sing_, but I'll update as quickly as possible. Thank you all for sticking with me! ^_^

***

It was two-thirty in the morning when the phone went off. The shrill tone jerked Rachel out of the half-doze she'd fallen into and she scrambled for the phone as her heart pounded. She didn't recognise the number, but it was a Gotham City prefix and she rested the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she adjusted Ava.

"Hello?"

"Did I wake you up?"

Jack's tired voice made her heart clench and Rachel had to swallow back tears. "No, not at all," she murmured. "We're just eating." She pressed the speakerphone button and rested the phone against Ava, so the baby could hear her father's voice.

"This late?"

"Ava. Ava's eating."

"How is she?" he asked softly.

"Hungry," Rachel said as she ran a gentle finger down their daughter's cheek. Ava scrunched her face up at the interruption. "Are you done in-processing?"

"Just finished." He sighed. "They were going to make me wait until the morning to call you, but I told them that you'd kill me if I didn't call as soon as I was done, and someone who makes the Jokester afraid is someone they don't want to upset. Bruce's lawyer probably helped convince them. How are you?"

"Tired. The girls got to sleep around midnight, and Charles has some very nice young Marines keeping a twenty-four/seven watch on us. I'll tell them you called."

"The Marines?"

The tired humour was evident in his voice and Rachel smiled, forcing a sort of smothered laugh. "No, the girls. Susie was asking about you."

"Christ, I haven't even been gone a day." His sniff might have been derogatory, or it might have been something else entirely. "Look, I've gotta go. Tell the girls that . . . that, y'know . . ."

"You miss them and love them; I'll let them know. I'm glad you got there safe." Rachel cleared her throat as Ava's grip on her nipple slackened. "Let me know as soon as you have an address, all right? Should I save this number?"

"Uh . . . I don't know. I'll let you know." His voice dropped even lower. "I, uh, I'll . . ."

Rachel leaned down and kissed Ava's forehead gently. "I love you, too, Jack. Call me as soon as you can. Be good."

"Uh, yeah, I will. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." They whispered their goodbyes and Rachel ended the call with extreme reluctance. He was going to be miserable in Arkham, if the place didn't make him snap again. Ava's hand brushing against her breast made Rachel look down, and she caught the tiny arm, placing soft, quick kisses on her baby's fingers. That made Ava let go of her nipple and Rachel smiled as she patiently offered it to the baby again. Ava latched on readily, but let it go after a few half-hearted sucks; she'd obviously had enough for the moment. There were footsteps on the stairs while Rachel moved Ava to her shoulder to burp the baby, then a soft knock on the bedroom door.

"Rachel?"

"Come in," she called. Charles was smiling as she opened the door. "That was Jack. He ---" She swallowed past the lump in her throat, her hands shaking as she lightened her pats on Ava's back. "He just finished in processing."

Charles settled next to her hips on the bed and adjusted the blanket across her lap. "He'll be fine, Rachel. Bruce has some lawyers on it, and spoke with Doctor Arkham himself. You weren't watching the news in the hospital. Gotham's pretty taken with Jack right now. There's been picketing outside of Arkham, from people wanting him released to ACLU lawyers vying for a private suite for him there."

"Oh, God," Rachel groaned. "Jack _hates_ the ACLU." There was a small hiccup from Ava, then a squeak as the girl yawned. Rachel kissed the side of her head. "Shh, shh. It's okay, sweety. I know you miss Daddy. I miss him, too." She slid Ava into the cradle of her arms again and watched the baby's eyes flutter shut. "Did Bruce say when we can visit him?"

"Official policy at Arkham is to give low-risk patients a breaking-in period of a month. I'm not sure how they're classifying Jack. It may be a couple of months before you can see him. Longer, for the girls."

Tears were falling down Rachel's cheeks as she turned to the bassinet that attached to the bed, letting her sleep close to Ava without risking rolling onto the baby or accidentally suffocating her with a blanket or pillow. She settled Ava in, laying on her side and reaching one hand out to rest her fingers on her daughter's tiny arm, trail them down to Ava's palm. Reflex kicked in and Ava grasped Rachel's fingers tightly in her sleep.

"Jack has to wait three months to see his baby?"

Charles' voice was soft. "Maybe longer. I'm sorry, Rachel. There's good news, though."

"What's that?"

"Ms. Holloway filed the adoption papers for Janet and Susie right before she died. While we were working on getting you and the girls out of Gotham, Bruce had his lawyers on it. We had Doctor Morgenson sign off on it all yesterday. Give it a week to go through the system, and you and Jack are officially Janet and Susie's parents."

Rachel looked away from Ava with a frown. "That fast? That's not possible."

Charles ticked off the reasons on her fingers with a grin. "Bruce is one of the richest, most influential men in the world. I'm one of the richest, most influential women in the country. Doctor Morgenson is one of the most respected talents in his field. We've all got connections out the wazoo. Everyone who's known Jack for the past four years vouches for him. Yeah, we pulled some strings, but it happens all the time. Don't worry about the girls. They'll be fine. You, however, need to get some rest." Charles pulled the covers up over Rachel's shoulder and tucked them in. "I'll be up in an hour and a half to feed Ava again. Your alarm's set for the feeding after that."

"I'm not tired," Rachel protested as she closed her eyes.

There was amusement in the other woman's voice. "I bet you aren't." She was almost asleep when Charles closed the door. Janet was sitting at the kitchen table downstairs with her cheek resting in one hand and Charles kept her sigh to herself as she checked on the formula in the fridge. Between Alfred and Bethany, they'd never run out. She measured some into a bottle and set it back in the fridge; she would heat it up right before going back upstairs. The doctors had okayed breastfeeding Ava every other feeding, much to Rachel's, and Charles', relief. She needed to bond with the child as much as possible. Charles was worried that Rachel would pull away from Ava emotionally because Jack wasn't able to be there to also bond with her. It was have been a horrible thing to think might happen, but as Jack often said, if emotions were logical, they'd be called logic.

She filled the teapot with water and put it on the stove, taking out two mugs, saucers, and spoons, before turning to Janet. "Nightmare?"

"Haven't been to sleep, yet." The girl was staring off into space, occasionally blinking slowly. She was making an obvious effort to get her sentences out, pausing for almost a minute between them. "Susie had one. She's fine, now." Charles didn't think that Janet realised her tears were spotting the table. "Jack's not coming back, is he?"

"If I have to break him out of Arkham myself, he's coming back. Do you want him to?"

Fingers with chewed-down nails drew patterns through the tears on the table. "I lied."

The teapot went off and Charles whipped around, lifting it up and opening the spout to stop the shriek. She poured the water into the mugs and put a teabag into each one, then settled down at the table and handed a mug to Janet. "About what?"

Janet took her time answering, dipping the teabag up and down in the water, reaching for the sugar and dumping two heaping spoonfuls into the mug. She stirred slowly, then tapped the spoon against the lip of the mug before setting it on the saucer and leaning forward to blow gently on the hot liquid. "About the concert."

Charles waited, but Janet was going to make her force the story out. "What happened at the concert?"

"I got drunk." Janet still wasn't looking up, but she moved her hair behind her ears and touched the tip of her tongue to the tea, pulling it back quickly, dissatisfied with the temperature and taste. "I came on to Jack."

"I know, Janet. You told me and Rachel already."

The sour feeling in the pit of Charles' stomach grew as Janet added more sugar to her tea and stirred it. "He didn't tell me no."

"What ---" Charles cleared her throat. "What did he do?"

"He kissed me." More tears fell as Janet finally wrapped her hands around her mug and took a gulp of tea, speaking faster. "He touched me. I didn't want him to stop. He kissed me here," and she ran her fingers around her breast, spiralling in to her nipple and pinching it gently, "and here." Then she moved her fingers up, across the expanse of her upper chest to her shoulders, around her neck, over her ears and face and lips. "He touch my legs. My thighs. I could feel him against me. He wanted me." Her voice broke and Janet covered her mouth for a moment as she shook, tears still quietly falling. "I wanted him to be inside of me."

Charles' voice was soft. "Did he?"

Janet shook her head quickly. "He wouldn't. He . . . he told me to touch myself. He said he liked to watch. I liked him watching." She dropped her mug the inch and a half to the table and burst into sobs, wrapping her arms around her waist and curling in on herself as Charles got up and knelt next to her to hold her gently. "I wish he had! Then I could remember how good it was, instead of how bad it was! I --- Oh, God, he promised not to leave us alone!" Janet was sobbing into the older woman's shoulder. "I told him he could, if he wanted to. If he'd let me and Susie stay, he could do anything he wanted to me. He, he told me I didn't have to whore myself out to stay, and he wasn't going to touch me. He said it was his fault, not mine, but he'd _told_ me he had problems with sex, he'd _just told me_ and I kissed him anyway. Rachel's going to hate me when she finds out. She won't let me stay. She'll hate Jack. They only let me stay because of Susie. They don't ---"

"Janet, shh, quiet," Charles murmured. She leaned back and gripped Janet's shoulders, shaking just a little to get the girl's attention. "Quiet, Janet, quiet. Listen to me. Jack and Rachel both love you, Janet. They're not going to send you away." She gently wiped the tears from Janet's face, despite the fact that Janet hadn't stopped crying. She'd stopped the hysterical babbling, though.

"They don't pay _attention_ to me," the girl hiccupped. "And, and now that Ava's here, Rachel won't have any _time_ for me, and I can't, I can't ---"

"Ava's a baby, Janet," Charles said firmly. "A baby. She's barely a week old, and she's premature. She needs a lot of attention right now; of course Rachel's going to need to spend time with her. But you know," she added as inspiration struck, "this is Rachel's first child. I think you probably have more experience with babies than she does. You were old enough to help with Susie when she was born, right?" she asked when Janet looked up in surprise. Janet nodded. "And I know you babysit Mitzi. You can be a huge help to Rachel right now, and spend time with her and Ava both. Susie, too." Charles pulled Janet in for another tight hug.

"But, Jack ---"

Charles sighed heavily and pulled back. "Do you feel safe around him? Even after everything?"

"I, I think. He saved us." Janet sniffed and wiped her puffy eyes. "He would have stopped them. He killed them."

Charles nodded. "For what they did, yes. If he didn't care about you, he wouldn't have killed them, Janet. You're his girls, all of you. He didn't mean to hurt you, Janet."

The girl snorted. "He never hurt me. He didn't even do what I _wanted_ him to do."

"Which brings me back to my question: Do you feel safe around him? Do you think he'll come on to you again?"

She shook her head. "He said he wouldn't. He was _so mad_ that he'd . . . that he'd . . . He said that he'd never touch me again."

"Okay." Charles got up to start cleaning the spilled tea. "Do you understand that for the past few months, Jack's been slipping? He hasn't been taking his medication unless someone gives it to him. He's been letting his grip on reality slip." Janet nodded and murmured. "That doesn't excuse him not keeping his hands to himself, but ---"

"He'd never have touched me if he hadn't been going crazy."

". . . Yes. It wasn't your fault, Janet."

Janet got up and brought their mugs to the sink. "Are you going to tell Rachel?"

"I ought to," Charles conceded. "If she hadn't just had a baby, if you all hadn't been kidnapped . . . If this were a normal situation, I would."

"But it's not normal. Jack wouldn't have done anything if it had been normal." Janet took a shuddering breath and bit back a sob, squeezing her eyes shut. "Did he really sleep with Veronica?"

"Yes," Charles replied tersely.

"Why?"

"If I understand correctly, because Veronica could get information from Bentley and Moskowitz, and Jack could . . . take his frustrations out on her. He didn't want to hurt Rachel or Ava, or let Rachel know that something was wrong."

"You're not going to tell?"

"Rachel can't handle that right now, Janet. She'll have enough issues dealing with Jack and Veronica, with all of this. Do _you_ want me to tell her?"

"She'll send me away if you do."

"And you don't want that, just like none of us want Rachel to have a complete mental and emotional meltdown. So we won't tell her. You and Jack should talk when he's back, though."

Janet plucked that the sleeve of the sweater she was wearing. "Yeah." She pushed away from the sink and went back to her and Susie's room, shutting and locking the door.

Charles took a deep breath as she took her phone out and dialled Bruce's number.

"Jack called?"

"About half an hour ago. Janet needed a shoulder."

"How are they holding up?"

"Exhausted and worried. Susie's convinced that if she can explain what happened, Arkham will let Jack come home. Where are you?"

"Doctor Arkham's office, with Doctor Morgenson. I think we've all agreed that Jack will do a lot better if he can see Rachel and Ava as soon as possible, but Doctor Arkham still wants to wait at least a month."

"I understand. Can't set a precedent for breaking the rules."

"Speaking of," Bruce went on, "Doctor Arkham and Doctor Morgenson are going to make it clear to Jack that he'll only have to wait a month _if_ he's perfectly behaved. No fights, no getting out of his cell --- and yes, even with all the improvements the asylum's made, Jack pointed out several ways of escaping as soon as he was brought it."

That made Charles smile. "For such an imbecile, Jack's incredibly intelligent. Providing he doesn't actually escape, _telling_ the staff how he _could_ just emphasises how good he's being."

"Yes, he's very smart," was Morgenson's dry comment from the background.

"If he behaves," Bruce went on, "he'll only have to wait a month. Every incident will add another two weeks to that."

"Does he know?"

"Not yet. Doctor Arkham's going to talk to him right now. Are you all right, there? Do you need me to send Alfred?"

"I'm fine, for now. I'll get in touch with Bethany tomorrow, see if she can come up for a few days, but Rachel and the girls don't need a lot of people over. My platoon's taking turns keeping watch, and Tom and Helna will stop by to help, but I don't want Rachel feeling like she has to play hostess."

Bruce yawned. "All right. I'll call you tomorrow." After Charles had hung up he followed Arkham out of his office and down to the elevators. Jack _had_ been given his own, private room. It was fully monitored, the hallway wall was bullet-proof plexi-glass, and extra guards had been assigned to that wing --- all of which had been announced prior to telling the press about the private room. "I appreciate how closely you've been working with us, Doctor."

"Doctor Morgenson has been keeping me appraised of Mr. Dawes' mental health since he left us last," the older man replied. "I fully agree that being close to his family would be the best for him, though we can hardly just cut him loose." He clasped his hands behind his back as the elevator doors opened onto Jack's wing. "Doctor Morgenson has agreed to head Mr. Dawes' therapy here. He's the only psychiatrist that Mr. Dawes trusts. If you could have Mrs. Dawes gather her husband's art materials, as well as any photos she'd like Mr. Dawes to have, and ship them to us as soon as possible, it would help to put Mr. Dawes more at ease." They stopped outside of Jack's room and Arkham pressed the intercom. "Good morning, Mr. Dawes."

He was laying face-down on the small bed. "Toss me a banana and I'll do a trick; otherwise, leave me the hell alone."

"May we come in?"

Jack pulled the pillow over his head with a groan. "You're the guys with the keys."

"Indeed." Arkham slid his key card and pulled the door open. "We've reached a consensus on when your family will be able to visit you."

The pillow was pulled tighter. "No."

"No?"

"'S what I said. I don't want them anywhere near this shithole. It's dangerous."

Doctor Arkham sat and crossed his legs, folding his hands atop his knees. "This would go much better if you would sit up and look at us, Mr. Dawes."

"Sit up, Jack," Doctor Morgenson said as Jack just grumbled to himself. "You can't go three months without seeing Rachel and Ava. Sit up and listen."

"_Fuck_," Jack snarled, flipping over and pushing himself upright. He leaned back against the wall and held the pillow tightly against his chest. "All right, what do you want?"

"Official policy is to have high-risk patients wait three months until their families can visit. For low-risk patients, it's one month," Doctor Arkham explained. "If you go through intensive therapy for one month, and have no incidents, then I'll allow you into the low-risk bracket. Every incident will add two weeks to your waiting period."

Jack's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the three men. "What part of 'I don't want my family to be put in danger by coming to one of the most dangerous, criminal-filled places in Gotham' did you not understand? I can't have them here. The last breakout you had was two months ago. Explain why I want my wife and baby near here."

Arkham and Morgenson looked at each other as Bruce rolled his eyes. "What makes you think that _Rachel_ will stay away for more than a month?" When Jack looked at him in surprise he shook his head. "Rachel's not going to wait three or more months if she doesn't have to, Jack. I'm sure that, with adequate supervision, visitation arrangements can be made outside of Arkham. In other words, don't be a fucking moron."

Jack stared at him, then looked around the grey room before sighing. "All right. Fine. As long as they're not near this place." His jaw clenched and his grip on his pillow was turning his knuckles white as Jack turned his face away from his visitors.

Doctor Morgenson smiled and stood up. "I'll be back in the morning, Jack. You can call Rachel then, and give her the asylum's number and your mailing address." Jack's throat muscles worked as he swallowed sharply. "Goodnight, Jack."


	2. Chapter 2

She shouldn't have let Tom and Helna take Ava inside. She should have gone in with them. What sort of mother didn't want to be around her child, especially with two days until Christmas? Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and hunched lower into her parka. Helna had convinced her that coming into town when Charles took Janet and Susie in for counselling would be good for her. She hadn't said a thing when Rachel had shown no interest in holding Ava or pushing her stroller, which, oddly, only served to make Rachel feel even worse. She found it slightly easier to care for Ava when they were at home, but that was possibly due to Charles always being there --- she never let Rachel not be there when Ava needed feeding, or burping, or tummy time. Rachel never said that the times she was stretched out on the couch, her blouse open, with Ava laying on her bare skin in only a diaper, were the times she missed Jack the most. He should have been there to help. He should have spent the first two and a half weeks of Ava's life being with his baby, with Rachel.

A flash of orange-red caught her eye and she glanced up out of reflex; the man who had moved into the apartments above the coffee shop was at the window again. He had only caught her eye because his was the only window not decked out with holidays lights and decorations. Rachel supposed he had a desk there, from the way he sat leaning forward and looking down. His striking hair had been catching her eye all week, every time she let Tom and Helna take Ava inside while she herself waited outside. Rachel wondered what he did, that let him sit there for so long.

But she really ought to get up and go inside, pick Ava up, or just be there so the baby could see that her mother really did care about her. Rachel hated that she felt so apathetic toward her child, but couldn't see a way to make herself want to be near the girl. Every time she looked at Ava, she was reminded of Jack. Every time she thought of Jack, she was reminded, as if she needed a reminder, that he was in Arkham Asylum and not by her side, and not with his child. It made her mad enough that she was grateful Janet had started helping with Ava more. Sometimes Rachel was angry enough that she found herself snapping at the girls for no reason. Sometimes she had to leave Ava fussing downstairs while she curled up in her big, lonely bed and bit her pillow, screaming into it.

The wind picked up and brought a heady, thick scent with it moments before there was a tap-shuffle, tap-shuffle across the pavement. There was a soft grunt, then a man cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but would it be all right if I sat down?" The man from above the coffee shop smiled down at her when she glanced up in surprise, his solid blue eyes sparkling as he slapped his right leg. Rachel looked down. The sole of his right shoe was a good inch and a half thicker than the left shoe. "I'm not used to the stairs, and with the cold weather . . ."

There were at least four Marines watching her, Rachel reminded herself. Hers was the only table outside at the moment. The red-head in front of her was using both hands to lean on his curved cane, and the squint of his eyes was almost the same as the squint Jack got when he had a migraine.

And he was politely waiting for her answer. Rachel cleared her throat and nodded quickly, gesturing with her left hand. "Ah, yes, please, have a seat."

His sigh was grateful as he pulled out the chair opposite her and brushed the snow off of it before sitting. "Thank you." He held his left hand out. "Edward Nashton." Rachel took it reluctantly; his grip was light, non-threatening, and he let her go sooner than she'd expected him to. "That's a beautiful bracelet. Is it custom?"

His question took Rachel by surprise and she covered the back of her hand, nodding. "Ah . . . Yes. Uhm, I'm Rachel."

He used both hands to adjust his right leg. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. . . .? You _are_ married, right?" he asked. Rachel had started with surprise. "The bracelet's attached to the ring on your ring finger. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be presumptive."

Rachel cleared her throat and shook her head. "Oh, no, you're right, I'm married. I'm sorry, Mr. Nashton, I'm not . . ."

"It's all right," he assured her as he ran a hand through his chin-length hair. "My desk is right by the window; I've seen you out here the last week." When she didn't seem keen on saying anything, he tilted his head to the side and breathed in deeply, enjoying the Christmas-y scents coming from the coffee shop. "You know that's a slave bracelet, right?" he asked after a few moments.

"Yes," Rachel replied shortly. "My husband and I are well aware of the significance."

"_Really_?" Nashton shook his head briefly. "I'm sorry, that's none of my business. Can I get you a drink? Some coffee? Tea?"

"No, thank you. My friends should be out soon." Rachel sighed as she peered inside, hoping Tom and Helna would finish up and wishing, for once, that she shared Jack's disregard of social niceties. She turned back to the curious man across from her as he adjusted his coat and tried to smile politely. "I'm sorry, Mr. Nashton, this isn't . . . I'm not at my best, right now."

"And that's all right. I shouldn't be prying. You're just . . . very interesting, Rachel." He cleared his throat as the deli door opened. "Ah, Lieutenant Fine, Mrs. Fine. How are you?"

"Good, thanks," Tom said. He adjusted his uniform and handed Rachel a cup of cocoa. "You've met Rachel, then?"

"Sort of. Now doesn't seem like the best time for introductions." Nashton got up with a smile, still leaning on his cane. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Rachel. I'm sure I'll see you around."

Helna walked around him as he continued to watch Rachel, kneeling in front of her and unzipping her parka. "Time to eat. She was fussing a little inside."

Right on cue, Rachel's breasts started to ache and she could feel milk leaking from them; it always happened when someone mentioned Ava, often when she even thought of the baby. "Right now?" she asked. She hadn't nursed the baby in public before, and Nashton was still watching with raised eyebrows. "Helna, we're in public ---"

"And your baby has to eat. I do it with Mitzi all the time. Look, we just put her in the sling, like that . . . Good! And then --- No, pull it down, Rachel. She had a bottle last time. You're not getting out of this." Helna wasn't deterred by Rachel's protests, fighting with her until she had Rachel's maternity shirt pulled to the side and her nursing cup down. Helna was close enough, and Rachel's parka was bulky enough, that she was safe from Mr. Nashton's gaze as she adjusted Ava and offered the baby her nipple. Rachel kept her eyes on her child as she latched on and grunted a little as she started sucking. She had to adjust Ava, wincing as she did so.

"I didn't realise the baby wasn't yours," Nashton said as he finally looked at Tom. "You'd mentioned you had a daughter and I'd never seen the baby with Rachel, so I just assumed . . ." He trailed off at the look Tom gave him, clearing his throat. "My apologies. So," he continued, "how old is she? It is a she, right?"

"Her name's Ava," Rachel finally spoke up. If she gave him just a little information, maybe he'd go away. "She's sixteen days old."

"Congratulations. You and your husband must be proud."

Rachel took a gulp of her cocoa before answering, curling in toward Ava as much as was comfortable. "Mr. Nashton, I'm sorry to be so rude, but my husband is receiving medical attention in New York right now. Thank you for your well-wishes, but he hasn't seen his baby since she was a week old, we've got two other children he also hasn't seen and won't be _able_ to see for at _least_ a month, and this just isn't --- it's a bad time to be making new acquaintances, Mr. Nashton, a terrible time."

"I'm sorry about that. It's my fault; I'm too nosy for my own good."

"Rachel! Rachel! Let's send this to Daddy! Look what I drew!" Susie came running across the street, dodging snow drifts that were larger than she was and waving a piece of paper around. "Oh! Who are you? You better be nice to my baby sister and to Rachel! _Charles_!_ Who is this guy_?!"

"Susie!" Rachel snapped. The girl turned to her quickly, her nose as red as her hair, and dropped her eyes. "Don't be rude. This is Mr. Nashton."

Susie gave him a sceptical once-over, moving to stand in front of Rachel. "You're the guy from that place," she said as she pointed to his apartment. "You never come out. Are you a vampire? Did you kill someone and now you're in Witness Protection? Is that why you have a cane? Why's your shoes different?"

Only Helna's hand on her arm kept Rachel from grabbing the girl. "_Susie_! I'm sorry, Mr. Nashton ---"

He just stared at the girl as he held his hand up. "My shoes are different because my right leg's shorter than my left; I need a thicker sole to make up the difference."

Having decided he wasn't a threat to Ava, Susie had settled on being curious. "Why's it shorter? Did someone cut your knee off and then you had to have surgery to replace it?"

This level of interrogation obviously wasn't something he was used to, not from a girl as young as Susie. "No. I was born like this. It's called Short Leg Syndrome. You're awfully nosy, Susie."

"You're awfully suspicious," was her reply, "just showing up here outa the green, with your weird hair."

"Blue, Susie, out of the blue," Tom told her. He'd just taken their sandwiches from the deli girl, setting them on the table. "And he didn't. This is the author I told you about, Edward Nashton? Who writes mysteries? Whose hair is remarkably similar to yours in colour?"

Nashton was getting another suspicious look-over from Susie, all squinty eyes and pursed lips and hands on her hips. "I dunno. Daddy says you can't trust a redhead. I'm gonna have to run this by Charles." She turned and waved. "Charles! Help!"

"Don't yell for help unless you really need it," Rachel told her. "We've been over this, Susie."

"I do need help," Susie reasoned. "He might be a bad person. Charles knows everybody, though."

She was making Nashton smile as he leaned back in his chair after ordering from the deli girl. "Really? He knows everyone? And who is . . . . Oh," he said shortly as Charles and Janet crossed the street. "Charles."

She didn't look entirely happy to see him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Nashton. What are _you_ doing here?"

He cleared his throat and sat straighter; Charles had that effect on people. "Researching my next novel. I didn't know you were in town."

"Because it's none of your business," she said coolly. She nodded to Tom and Helna as they said their goodbyes and left, then smiled when she saw Rachel feeding Ava. "Any reason you picked Loleta?"

"If I'd known you were here, I'd have gone somewhere else," Nashton replied. "But no, no reason. Why?"

"Just wondering."

"--- then I put in Rory, too, 'cause Daddy loves Rory. And Doc's friend liked my Mensa card," Susie was telling Rachel. She was leaning in close for warmth, watching Ava eat. "Does it still hurt? Does she bite you?"

"It hurts a bit, and no, she doesn't. She will once she starts getting her teeth, though. We'll send your picture off as soon as we get home." Rachel sighed as some of her tension left. Charles would have made Mr. Nashton leave if he was a threat, and by the sounds of it, she owned his publishing company. She looked up at Janet. "How was it?"

"Well, we've figured out that I've been severely traumatised," was the reply. Janet sighed and hunched in on herself when a group of teenagers walked up, snug in fur-trimmed jackets and laughing together. They stopped when they saw Janet, quietly filing into the deli and glancing over their shoulders. Rachel recognised Cathy as the girl stomped the snow from her boots and told the others to shut up. Janet cleared her throat. "Thank you for not making me go back to school," she said quietly. "The school's guidance counsellor says that on home study, I can graduate early if I work hard. Then I can get a job and help more with bills and food and . . . stuff."

Rachel smiled at her. "Thank you, Janet, but you don't have to help any more than you already are. And you _are_ a huge help."

"I want to," Janet said as she pulled her scarf up higher. "I can't just mooch off of you and Jack forever. I need to do _something_." Ava let her nipple go and whined a little, and for a minute Rachel was preoccupied with moving the baby to her other breast. Janet used that time to keep talking. "I know I'm only sixteen, but in a year and a half I'll be eighteen, and I can't just up and leave, you know. I can't leave Susie."

"She promised she'd stay," Susie said with quiet earnestness as she left Rachel's side to hug her sister.

"And even if I could," Janet went on, "what use would that be? Look, I, I don't know what I want to do, yet, but I don't want to spend the next year and a half studying when I could be being useful to you. Charles can't stay with us forever."

"She can't?" Susie asked, looking up at Janet.

Janet smiled down at her and tugged the pompom on her knit hat, then adjusted her scarf. "No, Susie, she can't. She has work in Gotham. She's just helping until Jack's back."

"Will Daddy be back for Christmas? Can we visit him?" Rachel had just covered her eyes with her free hand to keep her tears from view when Nashton reached over and poked Susie in the side with his cane. She whipped around, outraged. "_Hey_!"

"If you're not careful," he told her, "people will think you're a snowman because you're so pale."

"I'm not a snowman!" Susie exclaimed. "You're mean! Rachel, he's terrible!"

Nashton shrugged and poked her again, pulling his cane back before she could grab it. "It's not my fault you've got no melanin in your skin. I bet you turn into a freckle-faced lobster in the summer."

"I do _not_! Charles, shoot him!"

Rachel sighed and grabbed the hood of Susie's jacket as she started toward Nashton, baring her teeth and growling. "Susie, Ava's done eating. Do you want to burp her?"

Whipping around, Susie hugged Rachel. "Yes! I'm the best at burping Ava," she told Nashton haughtily. "_You_ can't hold her."

"No skin off my nose," he replied easily. "I don't like kids."

"Well, we don't like you, either." Susie sniffed and turned her back on him, pulling a chair closer and sitting in it as she waited for Rachel to adjust herself and hand Ava over.

The group of teenagers left the deli with their sandwiches and drinks in hand, and Cathy lingered behind. "Uh . . . Janet? Can I, uh . . ." She jerked her head down the street a little. Her friends kept walking.

Janet looked surprised and a little apprehensive as she nodded. Charles was giving her the go-ahead, and she stopped at the second shop down, turning to Cathy and crossing her arms over her chest. The bulkiness of her winter clothing and the scarf covering the lower half of her face afforded her a sense of security. "What?"

Cathy looked as nervous as Janet felt as she tugged on her blonde hair and shifted from foot to foot. "Look, Janet, uhm . . . Are you coming back to school?"

"No. I'm in home study."

Cathy's face fell a bit. She nibbled on her lower lip and didn't meet Janet's gaze. That was all right; Janet was avoiding hers, as well. "Oh. Uhm, look, you know Marco's dad works with Mr. Fine, right, and Marco heard him talking to his mom about talking with Tom, and . . . We all know," she finished. Not even the cold could account for the red of her face and she jumped in front of Janet as the girl whipped around to stalk off. "Wait! Wait, please, Janet. Marco told everyone in school. Mom . . . Mom heard . . ." Cathy's eyes were filling up with tears and she sniffed. "Mom heard us talking about it. We were . . . we were laughing, but Janet, please listen to me!"

"Why?" Janet asked coldly. Everyone _knew_. They all _knew_ what had happened to her. They'd _laughed_ about it. "So you can laugh at me some more? Fuck off, Cathy."

"No! Mom yelled at us," Cathy hissed. "She grounded me, she took away my car, my phone, my computer . . . I'm only allowed out today to finish Christmas shopping." She shook her head, frustrated, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "That's not important. Did you . . . Are you pregnant? Are you sick?"

Janet shook her head as she crossed her arms over her stomach. "What the hell do you want?" she whispered as she started crying.

"I want to know that you're all right," Cathy told her, awkwardly patting her shoulder. Janet didn't understand why _she_ was in tears, too. "I'm sorry, Janet. Mom was _so mad_ when she heard us making fun of you. She told me that she was . . . she was raped when she was younger. That's where she got AIDS, and . . . and me." Now Cathy was crying all-out, rubbing at her face as Janet stared at her. "I didn't . . . she didn't . . . I just want to know that you, that that's not what happened to you," she muttered as a car pulled up and honked. "I'm sorry. We'll be nice to you. I just . . . I'm sorry."

Cathy turned and hurried to the car, shaking her head at the woman who was driving. Janet stared after her until Charles touched her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah," she repeated, stronger. "Cathy just . . ."

"Told you about her mother?" Charles nodded when Janet looked at her in shock. "I'm omniscient, or close enough. Hannah told me about it before you got back from Metropolis. She also told me that Cathy was supposed to talk with you. Did it go well?"

Janet cleared her throat and shrugged, then nodded. "Uhm, I guess. She apologised." She took the napkin Charles gave her and wiped her face, smiling. "Thank you."

"No problem. Come on, let's get back home." Charles took Janet's elbow and led her back to Rachel, Ava, and Susie, herding all of them to the car. Janet was smiling softly the entire way back.

***

**A/N:** Thank you for your reviews, everyone! Yes, even the not-so-pleased ones. I appreciate people telling me what they don't like, as well as what they do like. I'll concentrate on Jack in the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** This story is killing me. Literally, I'm sure. This chapter was a pain in the wazoo to get out, and I'm hoping that the next chapter is easier. If it seems forced toward the end, well . . . it's 'cause Mama was pushing really hard and thinks she broke something. O_o

***

The twenty-third. Ava was sixteen days old. Not nearly as bad as sixteen years old, but bad enough in its own way. Jack finished carefully gluing the last picture into place and then got up, taping his makeshift poster to the wall. Morgenson was watching him work, not saying anything. It had taken Jack five days to finally put all the pictures Rachel had sent on the wall, and every few days he would tear them down, determined to forget all about his family. A day later, though, the pictures would go right back up again --- so, in order to make it easier to constantly redecorate the wall, Jack had made what was essentially a huge scrapbook page. Having them on one poster shortened the time it took to take them down and put them back up, which meant that Jack didn't get as frantic when he decided he couldn't live with, or without, a physical reminder of what he'd lost.

"Are you still hiding pictures?"

Jack grunted as he put his hands on his lower back and stretched; he could _feel_ himself getting older, and it disgusted him. "If I were hiding them, and told you, that would defeat the purpose of hiding them."

"Mm. Hiding pictures means there's less for the guards to take away if you misbehave."

Turning to his psychiatrist, Jack raised his eyebrows and leaned against the wall. "You know, Doc, you're the only person who says 'if' to me. Everyone else says," and he lowered his voice to do a stilted imitation of the guards and Doctor Arkham, "'_When_ you finally misbehave, these are the consequences.' What makes you different?"

"I suppose it's because I know that your family means more to you than bucking authority," Morgenson said cheerfully. Then he looked at Jack from over his glasses. "Am I correct?"

Staring hard at the woman he'd conned into marrying him and the child they'd unwittingly produced, Jack pursed his lips and shrugged. "Sometimes."

"Oh? And when don't they mean more?"

"When I take their pictures down. When . . . I don't know. Sometimes. Everything I say in here, they're going to use against me."

Morgenson nodded. "We can also use it to help you, Jack. Are you a danger to your family?"

"Not physically." Jack sighed and rubbed his fingers along his curled scar. He was uncomfortable talking about this. _He_ hadn't even figured it out yet, and tapped a picture of Ava smiling --- were babies supposed to smile that young? "That kid's gonna grow up with a psychopath for a father. What's she gonna tell her friends, Doc? What if she wants to get a government job, something that needs a security clearance? They'll get as far as her parents before they deny the clearance."

Morgenson was watching him with a furrowed brow and slightly squinted eyes, thinking. "You could always tell them your real name," he said after a few moments.

"What makes you think I remember it?"

"I think you remember a lot of things that would inconvenience you if others knew that you remembered them," was the response he got.

"They'd throw me away for life if I remembered and told people who I used to be," Jack said shortly as he glared. "No way. Not gonna happen." He looked longingly at the door. "They'd be better off without me. Rachel thinks I can handle a crying baby. I can't. You can't always shut babies up. I can barely stand it when Susie cries for more than a minute. How can I handle something that can't even tell me why it's crying? I can't do it. She's wrong. You're not telling me something."

Morgenson rubbed the side of his nose briefly before sighing. "Once you're released, Jack, the courts aren't going to allow you to live with minors. You've got too much of a history of violence ---"

"You know, _every single person_ that I've ever killed has had a purpose," Jack snapped. He was shaking with a mixture of glee and rage. On the one hand, how dare they take what was his? But on the other, he was getting out of a situation he didn't want to be in. "I'm not murdering people _just_ for the hell of it; every death had a reason, had a goal. Didn't I just do this fucking city a damn bit of good? Where's the credit for _that_, huh? I fucking knew it. These people --- They can't stand it when someone steps out of the line _they_ draw! They'll use you until you do their dirty work for them, then they'll eat you up! Fuck."

As Jack started pacing, Morgenson flipped through his notes and echoed his patient's sigh. After a few minutes Jack sat at the desk they'd bolted to the floor and took up the art supplies he was only allowed under supervision. He bent over the drawing paper on it and started sketching furiously, twitching once in a while as he grumbled to himself.

"Don't divorced parents get joint custody or something?" Jack asked a while later. His strokes had slowed, become more fluid., and he was calm again. "I mean, single fathers get, what, weekend visitation rights?"

"Sometimes, yes," Morgenson replied. Jack scooted his chair an inch or so to one side and straightened up, which meant he wasn't going to object if Morgenson watched his progress. He brought his chair over and watched Jack create Rachel on paper from memory alone. Her neck was arched, her eyes half-closed and rolled back, her mouth open slightly and her lips puckered just a little. If not for the slight smile on them and the light sweat that Jack was currently shading in, she would have almost looked like she was in pain. Morgenson kept his smile to himself. "I'm taking this one back with me?"

Jack grunted. "Man in here can't draw his wife mid-orgasm without the guards taking it," he mumbled. "I hate them."

"You're going to be able to eat with the other inmates tomorrow."

"What if I got an apartment in town?"

Morgenson frowned a bit. "What do you mean?"

"An apartment," Jack repeated as he started fine-tuning Rachel's hair. As he erased frantic lines a man's hand took shape, tangled in the hair and pulling back. In the light shading on her body, there was the suggestion of another hand cupping one of her breasts. Jack always put himself in his pictures of Rachel in some way. "In Loleta. When I'm out of here. They won't let me go home, but if I had my own place in town, Rachel and the girls could come visit, right? On weekends. Holidays. Maybe I could pick 'em up after school; Janet could drive." He started another picture, this one of Rachel nursing Ava. "There are a couple apartments open above Shotz. I still do work for Charles, so I've got a steady pay check, and I haven't touched my bank account, really, since we moved." He swallowed and cleared his throat. "But I guess that's a stupid idea, isn't it? I doubt I'll get out of here, and they'll probably slap a restraining order on me. Wonder if Charles needs a roommate."

"No, I think it's a wonderful idea. If you're proactive on this, Jack, it will look good to the judge. _You're_ not going to be on trial, Jack. The courts will intervene on behalf of the girls, but they have to do that." Morgenson watched Jack concentrate on his drawing, concerned, but glad that he'd brought his future living arrangements up of his own accord. "Look, if you set this up now, then you have it ready for not only the family court, but for the mob trial. They're going to try their hardest to invalidate you as a witness --- they'll use your previous actions, your current incarceration, anything they can to discredit you."

"Won't be that hard to do. I don't have a good track record. Folsom po-po don't like me." Jack set his pencil down and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. "Come to think of it, most people don't like me. Tom says every woman in Loleta wants me, but I don't think that counts."

"Why don't you tell me about Veronica," Morgenson suggested.

He got slightly puckered lips and a sidelong glance. "I've got nothing to say."

"Come now, Jack," Morgenson said as he leaned back, as well, and crossed his arms, "I'm not a complete fool. When Rachel was in California, you complained about Veronica every time we spoke --- which was far more often than you usually call me. She's been after you for quite some time, and you've hated it. Then you suddenly stopped mentioning her at all ---"

"Can I just say," Jack interrupted as he stared down at the orange jumpsuit he was wearing, "that your quasi-British accent is _really_ irritating at times? It makes you sound snotty and stuck up."

"--- and then Rachel calls me, in tears, about the video that caused her abduction." Jack pushed himself out of his chair and started pacing, rubbing his shoulder as his right hand pawed at his scars. His eyes darted over the cell, clearly looking for an easy way out, and he was snarling silently. "Why was she crying, Jack?"

"I don't know," he snapped, "maybe because she was kidnapped? Had a premature baby? Postpartum depression? She's a whiney, clingy idiot? Take your pick --- how the hell should _I_ know why she cries over most of the things she cries over? _I_ don't understand emotions. I'm the wrong guy to ask."

"I think you're not," Morgenson said calmly as Jack pressed his back into the corner farthest away from his doctor, gripping his hair in his hands as he slid down and huddled on the floor. His breathing was fast and shallow, panicked. "All I got out of her was something about you and Veronica. What did you do that made her cry so much, Jack?"

"I didn't do _anything_!" he exclaimed. "It wasn't _me_! Don't look at me like that, damn it!" Jack started rocking back and forth, pulling at his hair and baring his teeth in a snarl. "I didn't --- I couldn't hurt Rachel. I never hurt Rachel. I never touched her. I didn't let her get hurt. I didn't hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her. It wasn't --- it wasn't anything. I didn't mean it. I couldn't hurt Rachel or the baby. I had to hurt someone. I couldn't hurt Rachel. I didn't want to. I didn't mean to."

"Jack ---"

"She knew where they were!" Jack shouted as he leapt up, pacing to the other side of the room and slamming his fist against the wall. "She could find out where they were, so I could deal with them on my own! I had to do something to keep her willing to do what I needed her to do. Something. Had to do something. Had to stop them. Couldn't tell anyone but Tom. Arrest them and the mob would send someone else. Had to make a statement. Had to make it big." He was pressing his face against the cool grey brick, his eyes partially closed and rolled back in his head. He wouldn't let them shave him, but they'd trimmed his nails so he couldn't cut himself with them --- and he'd tried. His voice was dropping steadily lower. "I didn't want to. Couldn't hurt Rachel. Couldn't hurt Janet. She was there, she wanted me, she didn't care if I hit her. I hated her for it. I hated her. Rachel couldn't handle it. She was pregnant. There was a baby. My baby. I didn't ask for an abortion this time. I didn't want a baby but I didn't want to get rid of it. I needed to hurt someone and she was there. It wasn't my fault." Jack was whispering at that point, kneeling on the floor with his hands clutching at his temples.

Morgenson got up and went to him, kneeling by his side and speaking in a low voice. "Who did you ask for an abortion, Jack?"

Jack refused to look at him, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. "I don't know. Maria. I don't know. I didn't want it and neither did she. She didn't want it because it was mine. She didn't want me because I was me. Rachel wants me. Rachel wants the baby. She wants the baby because it's mine. It's mine. I want the baby. I didn't before, but now I do." He groaned as his migraine pounded inside his skull, and then the burgeoning memories suddenly went blank. It was the most beautiful feeling Jack had ever experienced, everything just wiping away like it had never been. He sighed in relief and slumped until his forehead touching the ground as he panted.

"Who is Maria, Jack?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know anymore. I don't want to know." Jack turned and crawled to his bed, dragging himself into it and pulling the pillow over his head. "Go away, Doc. I don't wanna talk any more."

Morgenson got up and started gathering his notes and Jack's art supplies. "Get some sleep, Jack. You'll dine with the other inmates tomorrow, and if that goes well, you can call Rachel Christmas morning. We'll talk about today later."

Jack didn't answer and the psychiatrist left. He wasn't sleeping, but he wasn't exactly awake, either. He stared blankly out of the small opening between the pillow and the mattress, not moving, feeling curiously empty, yet full at the same time. Doc would probably say he was feeling like he was near a breakthrough --- or on the verge of hallucinating. Jack never hallucinated. Convinced people he did, sometimes, but he'd never actually hallucinated without being on drugs. And that brought him to Janet. She was on daily doses of methadone, administered by Helna. If she was lucky --- for a given definition of 'lucky' --- she'd associate the heroin high with being raped and want nothing to do with it. She hadn't even wanted to take the drug, and had been given it four times at most. He hadn't bothered to ask the thugs how many times they'd come into the suite, but it had to have been no more than once a day. She couldn't be too screwed up by it. She'd killed one guy and then shot Jack himself; highly therapeutic behaviour, he felt.

The lights turning on at five sharp woke him up, and Jack closed his eyes with a groan. They were dry and his vision was blurry from keeping them open all night. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, Jack had the feeling that something had happened the previous day that he'd gotten upset over. His feet hit the floor and he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as he stared at his shoes and thought. Doc had asked him about Veronica, and then . . . and then . . .

Jack shoved himself up and went to his desk, searching through the drawers and papers. The pictures he'd drawn weren't there, but there was a note from Doc, reassuring him that the pictures were safe. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the bullet-proof glass wall and door as two guards rapped on it. Jack rolled his eyes at them.

"You know the drill, Dawes." They had shackles in their hands; Jack bristled at the thought of being bound, but kept his lips tightly pursed, went to the door and stuck his hands through the waist-level window they'd opened. His hands were cuffed, then one guard held them while the other knelt, opening a similar window at the bottom of the door and cuffing his ankles. The first guard wove a sturdy chain through Jack's wrist cuffs, around his waist, and dropped it for the second guard to secure to his ankle cuffs. He wanted to kick the man as soon as the door opened. He wanted to pull the standing guard toward him, bite his nose off, then drop onto the kneeling guard and crush his windpipe.

Jack looked up at the ceiling when fine tremors started coursing through his muscles. This was his tenth day here. He had twenty more to get through before he could see Rachel. He stepped back when instructed and concentrated as hard as he could on not lashing out a he was led, shuffling, down the hall. The guards had learned since his last stint in Arkham. They were keeping their rifles trained on him and well out of reach; if he lunged for one, the other would have time to shoot him down.

Think about Rachel. Think about Ava. Susie would cry if she couldn't see him when they'd said she could. Think about dealing with this for twenty more days straight, rather than thirty-four. Twenty more days, then he could have visitors. Did he _want_ visitors? He wanted to get _out_ and visit, not have people come to this place; he wanted to go to them. Maybe, if he was good, he could be transferred to a different asylum. Didn't Metropolis have one? Jack squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them wide, yawning when the guards looked at him.

"--- weren't supposed to get him until I was here."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but we weren't told that ---"

"You are _never_ to take Mr. Dawes out of his cell unless myself or Dr. Arkham are present. Is that clear, you man?" The orderly was shaking, fearing for his job as Jack and the guards rounded the corner to the nurse's station. Morgenson waited until he'd stammered an affirmative, then turned to Jack and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly.

"You use your breathing exercises," Jack said dully. He sat when the guards pushed him into the chair, settling his arm into the groove and waiting as they strapped him in.

"I wouldn't recommend them if they didn't work." Morgenson smiled and sat across from Jack while the nurse prepared his daily shot. "Did you sleep well?"

"With my eyes open." Jack sighed. "Do I have to eat with the others?"

"For once, Jack, you need to think of the impression you give others, and strive for a favourable one. The courts will judge your progress based partially on the reports of Doctor Arkham and I, and partially on how well you deal with the day-to-day of life in Arkham. You're lucky to not be in Blackgate."

The needle slid into his skin and Jack didn't even twitch. "Do I have to eat with them every day? All three meals?"

"No, we're going to work up to all three meals. We'll start with just breakfast for a few days, then add in lunch, then dinner. You're not getting out of this." They were untying Jack and Morgenson stood up. "Do you want to be able to call Rachel tomorrow?"

"No," Jack said simply. He got an interested look. "I don't want to talk to any of them until I'm out of here. I can handle it better if they're not around. But I'll talk to them tomorrow," he muttered. "Rachel will probably need it."

"She tells me that new author in town has taken a liking to her," Morgenson said as he walked with them to the cafeteria. Jack looked at him sharply. "It will make her feel better, knowing you miss her. That man hanging around just makes her miss you all the more."

"You coming in?" Jack asked when they got to the cafeteria doors.

"Only if you want me to. Otherwise, I need to speak with Doctor Arkham."

Jack shook his head and cracked his neck. "I'm fine. I don't need people to think I need my shrink holding my hand." He didn't listen to Morgenson's goodbye as the guards opened the doors. His chains and jumpsuit were par for the course in the room, which meant he stood out less, but soon enough the whispers would spread and people would turn and stare at the returning Joker, finally out of his makeup and, some would think, harmless. Jack was still considering how to make people afraid of him without resorting to physical violence when he sat down with his food and started eating, ignoring the inmates around him. The two across from him were flicking their glances up and down, from their plates to his face. It was irritating, but he endured it. No one he knew was eating; these all seemed to be the general wackos.

The staring got to be too much after a while, though, and Jack pushed his tray away. Two guards peeled themselves away from the security station and walked him to the door. Jack was just thinking that he'd done well when the doors opened to the startlingly vivid blue eyes of Jonathan Crane. Well, shit.

***

**A/N:** Let's ward off confusion (though not everybody reads author's notes, so I'll probably have to explain this anyway): one, the Joker doesn't kill indiscriminately in The Dark Knight. Every death has a purpose. He's also not the mad dog he claims to be; think of all the planning he'd have to put into doing what he did. Someone who will knife someone whilst walking across the street, or who is as out-of-control crazy as he makes Dent believe, is **not** going to be able to pull off what the Joker did. I'm sick of all the fics out there who don't take his obvious tactical skill, and intelligence, into account, so I put that bit in.

Two, the Joker may not have been telling Rachel the truth about his scars in the movie, but he probably wasn't that far off. The best lying, and the best acting, comes from displacing emotions: take the feelings of one situation and put them in a current one. Yes, I believe the Joker had an abusive father, and yes, I believe he was in love with a woman who left him when it became obvious that he was firmly on the path to becoming a psychopath.

If you want a great series of articles on the Joker and his sex appeal, that talk about these very things, Google "Rhonda Leigh Jones Joker sex symbol"; she's got a Blogspot account and an awesome insight into the Joker's massive sex appeal.


	4. Chapter 4

"Joker." Crane sounded slightly surprised as he looked up at Jack.

Jack glowered at him. "You tried to kill Rachel." He started to lean toward the shorter man and the guards reacted, two of them pulling the two men away from each other as the other two kept their weapons on them.

"In retrospect, a bad idea." Confident that Jack couldn't do anything to him, Crane turned his back and walked into the cafeteria. "Nice beard. See you around."

"What was _that_?" Jack asked his guards. "Am I not allowed to eat with certain people?"

"Yeah," the shorter one said.

"Suits me." He smiled tightly and licked at his scars. "I don't want anything to do with anyone, anyway." Morgenson was waiting for him in his cell. "There, I ate in peace. I can call Rachel tomorrow."

Morgenson gave him an interested look while he turned to the door once it was closed, letting the guards remove his shackles. "Really?"

Jack glowered over his shoulder. "Hey, I went there. I ate. I didn't put up a fight. I didn't do anything but eat --- I didn't even do anything to Crane when he came in, and he tried to kill Rachel. That means I get to call her tomorrow. You promised."

"The eating schedules for the higher-security inmates haven't been completely readjusted. Why won't you let them shave you?"

Jack rolled his eyes at Morgenson. "You know what shaving does to me. I do it or Rachel does it; them's the rules."

"Have you considered that Arkham has taken into consideration what an asylum full of libido-driven, and often controlled, inmates would be like, and has taken measures against such an occurrence?" He hadn't. Jack went to the wall and took down the poster of Rachel and Ava's pictures, rolling it up and then tossing it behind him. They'd be better off without him --- _he'd_ be better off without _them_.

"So, what, no conjugal visits?"

"Yours is a special case, Jack," Morgenson said with a smile. "Under normal circumstances, no resident of Arkham is allowed private visitations from their families; the security level is too high for that. Your case, however, is unique in that the cause of your backsliding was your family being taken from you. Doctor Arkham and myself agree that being in contact with your wife and children is integral to the success of your current incarceration and therapy."

"So, what, I'm a special snowflake and get private visits?" Jack asked as he sat at the desk, taking up the pencil and paper that Morgenson had laid out for him.

"Yes, Jack," Morgenson said with a roll of his eyes. "You are indeed a special snowflake."

Jack bent to the paper with a smug grin.

***

When Bethany pulled up to the beach house, there was a tanned, bleach-blonde girl just getting out of a very nice car. She didn't look happy to be there, and as Bethany got out of her own car, the girl had pulled a large basket and a couple of wrapped boxes out of the passenger seat. Then she looked over at Bethany, a slightly guilty, nervous look on her face.

"Uhm, hi," she mumbled, watching Bethany warily.

"Hello. I don't believe I know you. I'm Bethany Dawes."

The nervous look got worse. The girl clearly wasn't used to . . . whatever it was she was there for. "Oh. You're Mrs. Dawes' mother."

"I'm certainly not her older sister," Bethany replied dryly. "Are you a friend of Janet's?" She took the girl by the elbow and walked her to the porch.

"No! I mean we were in school together," the girl rushed on, "but we're not friends, Mom just sent me over with some stuff for Mrs. Dawes and the baby, and . . . I don't know what else, but I need to talk with Janet ---"

Bethany recognised the way the girl's features twisted into a frantic expression and took a guess. "You're not Hannah Sullivan's girl, are you?"

She got a deer-in-the-headlights look. "Uh, yeah? I'm Cathy."

Bethany smiled broadly as she rapped on the door. "Hannah and Rachel played together when we used to summer up here." She'd called to let them know she'd gotten to town, and from the back of the house there was a shriek of "Grandma!", which was followed by the pitter-patter of running feet, and then the door shook as Susie collided with it. The window curtain twitched and her freckled nose pressed against it, then she was throwing the door open and herself at Bethany.

"Grandma! You're here! Merry Christmas!"

"Yes, I'm here," Bethany laughed as she bent and carefully picked Susie up. It was good that the child was small for her age. She could see Rachel laying on the couch, watching them with an exhausted look. "And a merry Christmas to you too, Susie."

"Rachel and Ava are having tummy time," Susie explained as Bethany stepped inside. "We get to talk to Daddy tomorrow! What's _she_ doing here?"

"Cathy brought some things for Rachel and Ava," Bethany said. "Is Janet home?"

"We were getting ready to go to town and talk with Pamela. See, first I talk with Pamela, and Janet visits Mrs. Fine. Then Janet talks with Pamela, then Charles buys us lunch. Sometimes Mrs. Fine and Mr. Fine and Mitzi are there, too. I don't like it when Mitzi's there, though, because she tries to take Ava from me."

There was a fire going, but Rachel had pulled a blanket over her and Ava as soon as her mother had knocked on the door. "Mom, what are you doing here?" She was tired and didn't want guests over, even if it _was_ her own mother.

"Not leaving you in the depths of depression over Christmas. Besides, I wanted to see how my grandbaby is doing. Cathy, put those down and let's have a look at them. Charles, dear, there are presents in the trunk of my car, if you could please . . .?"

"No problem," Charles said as she came in from the dining room. "Janet, are you ready yet?"

Shuffling to the kitchen doorway, Janet was bundled in as many layers as she could get away with. She stared at Cathy. "Why are you here?"

"Mom sent me," the other girl replied as Bethany sat on the foot stool by Rachel and started sorting through the packages Mrs. Sullivan had put together. "There's stuff for everyone."

"I'm sure we don't need it."

"Janet, don't be rude," Bethany chided. There were outfits for Ava, some toys for Susie, gift cards, and wrapped books for Janet, which were handed over and taken sullenly.

"They're not from me, they're from Mom."

Charles came back in with an armful of presents, muttering about grandmothers. She set them down under the tree she'd insisted be put up --- Rachel and Janet were in no mood for Christmas, but Susie was eager for it. "I'll make you girls some tea." Janet tried to protest but she was ignored.

"Charles' nephew wanted to come visit; he was very worried about you, Janet. All of you."

Her brown eyes got a little wide. "Dick?"

"Yes, Dick. Bruce told him he couldn't; Rachel doesn't need extra people in the house." She smiled at Janet, then her daughter. "I couldn't not be here for Christmas. Not this year."

"I know, Mom," Rachel said as her eyes filled with tears. Ava had fallen asleep, and she rubbed the baby's back gently. "I know, just . . . All she does is eat and sleep."

"She was early," Bethany soothed. "She'll get more lively, Rachel. Judge by her due date, not her birth date."

"Jack will want to play with her when we visit him. If she's sleeping, or fussy ---"

"Jack will be relieved that he can see you at all, Rachel. Didn't Doctor Morgenson talk with you?"

Rachel nodded. "Arkham inmates aren't allowed private visits from family. Jack's unique because we're integral to his therapy." She was quoting Morgenson almost verbatim.

"Right, and if he acts up, he won't be allowed to see you. He's not going to mind a sleeping baby if his only other option is no baby at all. Rachel, are you seeing a therapist, like Janet and Susie?"

"Doctor Morgenson calls me almost every day, to tell me how Jack's doing and to ask after the girls. We . . . end up talking about a lot. He wants me to take some anti-depressants, but I don't want to while I'm breastfeeding. And I can't stop breastfeeding. Jack wanted me to; he brought it up before I'd thought about it."

She was starting to sound a little frantic and Bethany stroked her hair. "It's all right, Rachel. No one wants you to stop feeding your baby. I promise, even if he has to look at her through a window, Jack will love it when he can see Ava."

"The courts want to put Janet and Susie into foster care," Rachel murmured. "They don't want to go. I sent a letter, explaining that Jack isn't in the house and probably won't be for a long time. They haven't replied. I think the girls are fine for now, but when Jack gets out . . . He _will_ come home, Mom, won't he?"

She wanted the answer Bethany would have given her at five. She needed the answer Bethany could give her at forty. Bethany took a deep breath. "Jack will be back. I don't know how long it will take, but Jack _will_ come back to you." The sleepy smile on Rachel's face was beautiful. "You know, Rachel, it may be hard with Jack in Arkham right now, but you ought to enjoy your time away from him. I'm not saying you have to be happy that he's gone," Bethany stressed when Rachel turned a horrified look on her. "Not at all. But let me ask you: how long do you think Jack would have waited before he wanted to have sex again?" Rachel blinked and looked down at Ava's dark curls. Bethany reached out to touch her granddaughter's cheek gently. "After you were born, your father and I went through a bit of a rough patch. He didn't quite understand that I wasn't in complete control of my body anymore, that while I loved you, and him, I was constantly holding and feeding you, and at the end of the day I wanted to curl up and not have to touch anyone, let alone have sex. It took a few months before we started up again, and Jack, love him though I do, has a much stronger sex drive than William did."

Rachel laughed softly as tears fell down her cheeks, nodding. "You've got a good point," she conceded. "God, I shouldn't feel relieved that he's not here . . ."

"I was relieved every time William went to work. It's all right, Rachel. This will let you settle into a routine with Ava, heal from giving birth, and be able to give more time to Jack once he's home. You know he's an attention whore on his best days; he's going to be worse with Ava."

Rachel shifted so she was sitting up as Ava started rooting in her sleep, hungry again. The baby's eyes fluttered open and Bethany had her camera out almost instantly. Rachel sighed as she turned Ava in her arms and settled the baby against her, holding Ava against her side and pulling the blanket away so she could see what she was doing. She cupped her breast at the base of it and brought Ava closer, tickling the baby's lips gently with her nipple until Ava opened her mouth wide enough to latch on correctly. As soon as Ava started making little squeaking grunts and gulps, Rachel look up at her camera-happy mother. "Mom . . ."

Bethany beamed. "What? I want pictures of my grandbaby."

"But she's just eating. She'll probably go back to sleep as soon as she's done. All I'm good for is feeding her." Rachel shifted Ava just a little and ran her fingers lightly over the baby, like Charles had said was good for bonding. She didn't feel like they were bonding. Bethany leaned over and kissed her forehead, pushing her bangs out of her eyes.

"I could have sworn you hated me for the first month of your life," she said quietly. "You loved to play with your father, but all you would do with me was eat. Even when William and I were both playing with you, you'd smile and laugh more with him. Give her some time; she wasn't expecting to be here so soon, after all."

***

At the kitchen table, Janet and Cathy stared at each other over steaming mugs of tea. Charles had taken Susie into their room to get her dressed, and the two teenagers shifted in their chairs.

"You're not sick," Janet finally said. "Not like your mom."

Cathy cleared her throat. "Yeah. The guy who --- she knew him. She knew he had AIDS. They started giving her Paldon right away. It stopped me from getting it. Another drug came out a few years ago, stops the progression of the virus. Mom's on that."

"Isn't Paldon for the mother, too?"

"Sort of," Cathy shrugged. "It stops the baby from getting HIV for sure, but the mother has a fifty-fifty chance of getting it. And Mom, well . . ."

It wasn't fair of her to grill Cathy about her private life. Janet did it anyway. "What about your brothers? Your dad?"

Cathy flinched at the title. "They were careful. The twins were in vitro. They weren't . . . an accident." Then she smiled a little. "Mom always tells me I'm her favourite accident." Janet cleared her throat and took a sip of her tea, which Cathy used to change the subject. "I heard you went to Gotham City in October. What did you do?"

"Saw a concert."

"Which band?" Cathy pressed, even though Janet obviously didn't want to say anything else. "There were a couple playing that I wanted to see."

"No one you'd know."

"Maybe I would."

"Raped by Zombies," Janet snapped. "All right? Happy?"

Cathy's eyes got bigger and she leaned forward. "How'd _you_ get to see Raped by Zombies?"

"Rachel got Jack tickets for their anniversary, and she couldn't go," Janet said frostily. Then she gave Cathy a suspicious look. "You know who they are."

"Yeah, I do. They're the band I wanted to see. Not that _you_ know what music I like," Cathy sniffed.

"I thought you were all hip-hop and Top 40; excuse me if that's all you ever listen to in public."

"I'd be a laughingstock if people knew I liked a goth metal band; of course I don't go blabbing it." Cathy glared at Janet, who glared back. "I have all their albums."

"Really? You have their initial LP? From '16?"

"Their initial LP was from twenty-twenty," Cathy corrected.

"Wrong," Janet shot back with a smug voice. "They released a two-track demo in twenty-sixteen. It had early versions of Medea's Fratricide and Rainbow Smoothies on it."

"Prove it or it didn't happen," Cathy demanded.

Janet pushed herself up. "Fine. Come on. I also," she said over her shoulder as she knocked on her bedroom door, "got to meet Elizabeth Tess. She's really great in person."

Charles was trying not to roll her eyes as she opened the door and led Susie out. "We're leaving in ten minutes."

"You and Hannah used to get along," Bethany commented as Janet's door slammed shut.

"Mom, I barely remember Hannah as a child. And Janet's never been popular at school." Susie climbed up the back of the couch, laying on it as she watched Ava eating. "Susie, get off the couch."

"But I wanna watch," the girl pouted as she stayed put.

"Children are curious," Bethany said. "Ava's gained weight. When's her next check-up?"

"We're going in the day after tomorrow." Rachel sighed and stroked Ava's hair as the baby brushed her hand against Rachel's breast, her blue eyes wide open and alert as she stared up at her mother. The sounds she made as she ate were making Rachel smile.

"Are you ready, Susie?" Charles asked as she pulled her boots on.

"I have to burp Ava."

"Go with Charles," Rachel told her. "Don't complain. Mom and I will be in town later." She watched a very disappointed Susie slide off the couch, then Cathy flounced out of Janet's room. She paused barely long enough to mutter a goodbye, then was out the door and stomping down the steps. Janet was looking smug as she walked into the living room. "Prove that you're the bigger fan?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "See you in town."

Rachel and Bethany were quiet until Charles had brought Ava's car seat in. As soon as the door shut behind her, Bethany turned back to her daughter and grandchild with a smile. "The cutest sound in the world, I swear, is a baby breastfeeding."

That made Rachel laugh. She smiled down at Ava, who hadn't taken her eyes from her mother's face. "Sometimes . . ." Bethany squeezed her shoulder as she gulped. "Sometimes that's the only thing that makes me feed her. She just stopped taking her bottle yesterday, and screamed until Charles had me feed her. She had to _make_ me feed my daughter. I'm a terrible mother. I wanted her so much, but now that she's here, I just . . . I don't . . . I feel like I'm neglecting her, Mom."

"Rachel . . ." Bethany took Rachel into her arms and hugged her tightly. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're _not_ a terrible mother, Rachel. You care about Ava. I saw it when you were in the hospital, and I see it here. You've been through _so much_, Rachel." She squeezed Rachel's hand, then her knee. "_So_ much. You _can't_ expect to be happy right now; it's ridiculous. You've got good reason to be depressed, sweety. You've also got friends who care about you and the girls, who understand what you're going through and who want to help you. They're not going to let you neglect Ava."

"They've all done so much, I don't want to bother anyone. I should be able to take care of my baby."

Bethany nodded and helped her pull Ava up to her shoulder to burp. "You're not bothering anyone, Rachel. You were kidnapped. You had Ava early. Jack's in Arkham. If anything, you should be asking for _more_ help. Charles is here to do nothing _but_ help you. Tom and Helna know how it is to take care of a newborn, and they're more than willing to do whatever you need them to do. Talk with them. You're not the only woman to be depressed after having a baby, Rachel. I know it's hard right now, but you're not alone."

"Jack's missing so much . . ."

"And you need to take this time to get settled with Ava and figure out what to do about Janet and Susie, and your marriage. Figure out what's best for your baby." Rachel looked away as she settled Ava against her right breast, and Bethany stood up to gather their coats. She heard the washer stop and went to change the laundry, tidying up the kitchen and dining room as she passed through them. "Why don't you have Janet and Charles turn the dining room into a bedroom?" she asked as she sat next to Rachel again. "Janet and Susie can sleep there, and Charles can have her own room. Here, I'll burp Ava; you put your coat on."

Rachel handed the sleepy baby over and pushed herself off of the couch. "I guess. Jack never liked eating there, anyway. Too conformist."

Bethany laughed as she bundled Ava up. "Then he'll enjoy that you've bucked establishment so much as to use the dining room for something other than dining in."

"And having sex."

"I don't share the details of _my_ love life, and I'll thank you not to share yours. Unless it's a new trick. That tongue-finger thing you told me about is very popular."

Rachel levelled a stern look at her mother as she was bustled out the door. "And if you don't behave, I won't tell you any more secrets of the flesh."

"Ooh, secrets of the flesh. That'd make a great book title."

***

**A/N:** I wanted to take a moment to thank all of my readers; I know I usually only thank those of you who review, but I wanted to let everyone else know that I really appreciate you reading. A lot of times authors come off like all they want are reviews, and if you don't review, you shouldn't be reading. Not everyone thinks like that; yeah, authors love feedback, and we like in-depth feedback, but I've come to realise that not everyone can give in-depth feedback, or anything more than, "Cool! Write more!", and some can't even manage that. Either they don't have much to say, they're shy (I don't bite, really), or the story didn't affect them enough to leave a review.

Whatever the reasons are, I think the important thing is that you're reading and enjoying the story. Thank you for that, very much. *hugs tight*


	5. Chapter 5

There were anxious, beady little eyes trained on her. Rachel knew it. She could feel them, and even though her internal clock was slowly adjusting to Ava's current feeding schedule and Jack wasn't there besides, it still told her that it was too early for him to be up, so it had to be five at the latest.

If Susie didn't stop breathing so quickly, she was going to hyperventilate. She couldn't be _that_ eager for Christmas morning. Rachel was set on ignoring her until a few sniffles crept out, and then she opened her eyes. Sure enough, Susie was clinging to the edge of the bed at eye-level, having apparently moved Ava's bassinet out of the way, and what Rachel could see of her nose was twitching with sniffles as tears glistened in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Susie?" Rachel mumbled. It hadn't been that long since Ava's last feeding, and just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Mommy used to wake us up on Christmas morning," the child whispered. "She'd show us the cookies and milk that Santa had eaten, and, and the carrots that the reindeer had eaten, too." She was breaking down and Rachel pulled the covers back with a sigh. She pulled Susie close when the girl climbed into the bed with her, stroking her hair gently. "And, and Daddy --- my real Daddy --- would show us where Santa caught his beard on the fireplace, and we'd have cocoa and caramel popcorn when we opened presents. I miss Mommy and Daddy," Susie sobbed after taking a huge gulp of air.

Rachel held her tightly and let her cry, blinking away her own tears. She hadn't thought to ask Susie how she was doing; she'd seemed to be adjusting well, so Rachel hadn't given it a high priority. She whispered soothingly into Susie's ear and hugged her close, reassuring her that nothing had been her fault, not her mother dying, not being kidnapped, nothing. Rachel loved her, she promised, and she wasn't going to let the state take Susie and Janet away. The mere mention of being separated made Susie cry harder, burying her face in Rachel's breasts as she shook. She was terrified of being alone. Even when she started falling asleep, Susie struggled to keep her eyes open and didn't let Rachel go. Every time she nodded off, she'd wake up with a jerk and a whimper.

"It's all right," Rachel whispered as she rubbed Susie's back. "Go to sleep, Susie. I'm right here. We'll call Jack and open presents in a few hours. Go to sleep, sweety."

"I love you, Rachel," Susie whispered.

Rachel smiled down at her. "I love you, too, Susie."

***

The video conference room had been cleared out for him. Technically, it was just his turn to use it to call his family on Christmas, but Jack preferred to think that it had been cleared out especially for him regardless of the normal operating procedure at Arkham. It was a method of thinking that Morgenson had talked about changing, some new therapy he was working on. Jack hadn't been paying any attention; the good doctor had been trimming his beard for him, and he'd been almost hyperventilating as he'd fought to not throw a fit. No amount of persuasion had gotten him to agree to be shaved, including the threat of not being able to call Rachel today. Jack had just raised his eyebrows and repeated what he'd been saying from the first day, that, according to Arkham's own rules, so long as a patient (him) posed no threat to themselves, neatly-groomed, trimmed facial hair was allowed. That was why he'd squirmed his way through the morning's trim, feeling like a sullen child being groomed by his parent. He'd never felt that way; every time he remembered being in front of his father, fear was the overwhelming emotion. To had felt only faintly naughty and somewhat put-out was new, and frankly exhilarating.

"Don't you have to spend Christmas with your wife?" he asked Morgenson. The doctor looked up from the book he was reading in the corner and shrugged.

"We had breakfast together, and we're going out to dinner tonight. She understands that this is important."

"Tell her hi for me. My kid's first Christmas and I have to be stuck in here," Jack scoffed irritably as he hunched down in his chair and leaned his arms on the table. He'd been read the rules prior to leaving his cell, and now Arkham himself was telling the same thing to Rachel.

"Do you understand _why_ you're in here?"

"Of course I understand," he replied with a roll of his eyes. "I saved Rachel, my daughter, and two kids from dying, killed a bunch of people who really deserved it, stopped a pair of serial killers, and got rid of the mob in Gotham. Now I'm being punished for it." He rubbed an itch on his nose before continuing on in a mumble. "And I went crazy, and, uh, withheld information from the police --- which the FBI said was the best thing to do, in retrospect --- and, uh . . . I'm crazy."

"And killed people."

"They _deserved_ it," Jack shot back with a scowl. "Johnny MacKenzie was a serial rapist who specialised in little old grannies, and he wasn't even the worst that I killed. _What_ is the fucking _problem_, Doc? Look, fine, I _know_ why I'm in here --- I just don't _understand_ it. Can we leave it at that? Because I doubt I'm ever _going_ to understand it."

"You need to demonstrate that you're going to abide by society's rules if you're going to be let out of here," Morgenson told him evenly. "You needn't understand them, Jack, just follow them. I know you hate the idea, but it's what's going to get you back to Rachel."

"Who's better off without me."

"I really hope that wasn't about your wife," Arkham said from the screen. Jack started violently and whipped back around, his hands half-raised in a defensive posture before he realised that Arkham had come on the line. He lowered his arms with a scowl. "If you're ready, Mr. Dawes, I'll transfer you over."

"_Thank_ you," Jack said with exaggerated politeness. He had the heart-pounding, antsy feeling in his chest that he'd been assured was nervousness. He was never nervous. He hated the feeling. He hated the shortness of breath it gave him, he hated that it made him think Rachel would decide that she didn't want to talk with him. He'd stopped them on the drive back to Loleta as often as possible, taking every moment he could to hold Ava, to learn everything about her that he could and now here he was, not having seen her except in pictures for eighteen days, and how much had he missed in eighteen days? How much bigger had she gotten? How was anybody getting along without him there? Jack was sure that they needed him, but there was a tiny sliver of doubt in the back of his mind that said maybe they'd discovered that they didn't need him, after all.

Then Arkham's face disappeared and in its place was Rachel, holding a red and green bundle in her arms. Ava was awake and waving her arms around slowly as Rachel rocked her. Jack stared at them for a long time.

"She's bigger," he finally managed.

Rachel nodded with a smile. "She's going through a growth spurt right now. How are you?"

He ignored the question and craned his neck to get a better view of the infant. "Let me see her. I can't see her."

"Here, look at Daddy," Rachel said as she shifted Ava in her arms, sitting the girl up against her chest. She wiggled her fingers in front of the computer screen and Ava's eyes tracked the movements. "See? There's Daddy, who needs a shave and a haircut. Mom's here; she brought the outfit. Doesn't she look cute?"

Jack leaned forward and nodded because that was what Rachel needed. "Precious. Hey, minion. Hey, yeah, look at me." Ava seemed to focus on him and he kept tilting his head to keep her attention on him. "What's up? Are you behaving? You've got Rachel's eyes and hair. What's up with that? I helped, too, you know. Can't I get a little credit?"

"Blue eyes are recessive. She'll probably end up with brown eyes. They should settle on their permanent colour in eight months or so. She's got your curls, though."

"Hey, Doc, check it out," Jack said when Rachel tugged the little cap off of Ava's head. He pointed at her small dark curls. "I gave her those."

"Curly hair is an incompletely dominant trait. Someone with pure straight-hair genes and someone with pure curly-hair genes will produce a child with wavy hair. Rachel also has wavy hair. Ava would probably have had some wave to her hair even if you had straight hair." Jack let out a disgusted sigh as Morgenson leaned over his shoulder. "With your hair texture, she'll probably be more curly than wavy. Good job."

"Thanks," Jack mumbled. "Way to help a guy's self-esteem. So," he coughed, "how are you?"

Rachel looked down, then back up through her eyelashes. "I miss you. We all miss you. Ah, Tom and Helna are coming over for dinner. Mitzi just loves Ava; she and Susie fight over who gets to hold her."

"'Cause Mitzi's a dyke. No, she is," Jack insisted when Rachel gave him a Look. "She smells like one. Smell her!"

"She _smells_ gay?"

"Yeah," Jack nodded, "she does. She's my little dykling."

"And what about Ava?"

Jack looked down and wiggled his fingers at his daughter, smiling when she tried to shove her mitten-clad hand in her mouth as her eyes followed him. "Too soon to tell. Bring her when you visit and I'll take a sniff."

Rachel winced a little. "I . . . It may have to be just me, just for the first visit," she told him. Jack pursed his lips and nodded, not looking up at her. "I'm sorry, Jack, it's ---"

"For Ava's safety. I know, Rachel. The seventh and eighth are on a weekend, so you don't have to take time off of work. Oh. When are you going back to work?"

"Whenever I feel like it," Rachel said when he looked up at her. "Mark said to take all the time I need, and I can do some things from home to ease back into the routine."

"What about Ava?"

"Janet can watch her, and hopefully you'll be home by then."

Morgenson coughed slightly and Jack licked his lips. His moustache tickled his tongue. "Uh, yeah, about that. Uhm . . . I thought that I'd, y'know . . . The courts aren't going to want me around the girls, you know?" Rachel's face took on the pinched look it got when she was trying not to let something he'd said or done affect her until he'd explained himself. "And, uh, I asked Doc, and he agreed. I mean, I was thinking I could get a, an apartment in town when I got back. I want to come home," he hurried on at the stricken look on Rachel's face. "I really, really want to come home. I wanna help with Ava, I wanna spend --- I wanna be around you all. I _need_ to be with you. I just . . . it might be for the best for a while, if I wasn't in the house. I could, uh, take you to work and pick you up, or uhm, take the girls to school . . . or daycare . . . or something . . . There are apartments open above Shotz," he finished lamely. "Doc said the courts would like that idea. So they don't have to take Janet and Susie away. Or Ava. How _is_ Ava? You've lost a lot of weight. Are you eating right?"

Rachel was nodding as she closed her eyes, licking her lips. "I'm just losing some baby weight," she whispered. "I'll be all right." Then she cleared her throat and looked at him again, smiling. "I love you, Jack. I'll let the courts know," she went on as he mumbled it back at her, "and I'll talk with Marshal about the apartment. I can put some money down to hold it until you're home. That's . . ." She looked down at Ava for a moment. "That's a good idea. It is, Jack. I don't like it, but it's a good idea."

"Doc wants to start me on some new therapy. Something about changing the habit of being schizo or something. I have to try not to think that I deserve more than everyone else. We'll let you know how that goes."

"James is a good man," Rachel said. She looked to the side and cleared her throat. "Susie wants to talk with you. I said we could open presents when we called you."

"How's Janet doing? Does she hate me?"

Rachel sighed and turned Ava toward her when the baby started wiggling and squeaking a bit. "Janet . . . is coping as much as she can. She feels guilty, and . . . She'd rather not talk with you right now. I'm sorry, Jack."

He shrugged. "I figured she wouldn't want to. But she's getting good help?"

"Yes," Rachel nodded. She looked to the side again and nodded, pulling her blouse up to feed Ava. The baby started rooting with more enthusiasm, her dark eyes looking up at her mother.

"You're beautiful," Jack breathed as he stared at them. He felt for his paper and pencils, his eyes crawling over Rachel and Ava as he started a rough sketch. "Don't ever stop breastfeeding."

That prompted a laugh that, from the surprised look at Rachel's face right after, hadn't happened in a long time. "I can't breastfeed her forever." She kept looking down at Ava, but glanced at Jack out of the corner of her eyes. He was transfixed. Even when Susie crept up and settled next to her, his gaze stayed on his baby and the smile on his face was small, but genuine and full of hope and love.

"Then we'll have more," Jack said at the same time Susie spoke.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy."

Jack focused on her but his sketching didn't falter. "Hey, kid. How are you?"

"I miss you. Did you get my letters?"

"Yeah, I did. Didn't I send one back? I'd send more, but there's not that much to say. I got your pictures, and I put them up on my wall." He looked at Rachel, who nodded in encouragement. "I wish I was there, Tootsie-pop."

"Me, too. Rachel said I can open your presents for you."

Jack smiled at her. "Go ahead; show me what I got." He kept glancing between the screen and his sketch as Susie was handed some presents. "Hi, Bethy."

"You behave yourself, Jack," was her off-camera reply. "Coming home to these four is your highest priority right now, do you understand me?"

"Completely."

"This is from me, to you." Susie showed off her wrapping paper with a grin. As soon as Jack had admired it appropriately, she tore into it with glee. It was a handmade ceramic mug with pictures in a mosaic pattern all around it. "Charles showed me how to make it. Do you like it? It's got you, and me, and Rachel, and Janet, and Ava. See? And there's Rory, and there's Schro."

"Who's Schro?"

"Schroedinger! The kitten you gave me. Doc was letting me read about Schroedinger's theory, and when I was looking for Schro the other day, I could hear him in the laundry room, but I couldn't find him. He was there, but he wasn't!"

Jack laughed. "Wow. What else is there?"

"This one is from Rachel. Oh, it's mine!"

She continued to open the presents, setting aside the ones for Janet, keeping up a narrative about each one. Bethany sat down in the background and Tom, Helna, and Mitzi followed her. He got waves from them, and Mitzi struggled out of Helna's arms and came over to babble at him.

"No, she'll try to take Ava!" Susie protested.

"Ava's not done eating yet," Rachel told her.

Mitzi was trying to touch Ava, but Susie was holding her back. "Baby! Mine!"

"No, that's Rachel's baby! Rachel's and Jack's, and she's _my_ little sister, not yours!"

"Hey, stop," Jack told them both. Helna had to come get Mitzi, and Susie glared at the toddler. "Knock it off. Mitzi loves Ava as much as you do, Susie. They're going to be lesbians together and have lots of cats."

"What are lesbians?"

"Women who love and have sex with other women," he told her as the adults rolled their eyes. "And they're awesome."

". . . Oh. But I still get to burp Ava."

"Only until I get home. I want to help, too. Are you being helpful?"

"I burp Ava," Susie repeated. "And I change her diapers sometimes. And I make sure Mr. Nashton doesn't be mean to her."

"Who's Mr. Nashton?" Jack asked.

"He's got the hots for Rachel. But he doesn't like kids. And he's a red-head! I don't trust him. He knows Charles, too! And he's writing a book. I bet it's a stupid book."

Jack raised his eyebrows at Rachel. "Really? Oh," he backtracked a bit, "that mystery author. Are you supposed to be out in the cold with Ava? What if you two get sick?"

"We have lunch with Tom and Helna while Susie and Janet are with the psychologist," Rachel told him. "He stops by the deli sometimes. He knows I'm married, and he's very polite. He wanted to interview me for his novel, but I told him that Mark would be a better choice right now."

"He make any moves on you?"

"You wouldn't be able to do anything about it if he had," Jack was reminded, "and Tom and Helna are always with me."

"Hey, I . . . I'm just worried. You _did_ just get kidnapped."

"And he knows Charles. She says he's nosy, but harmless." Rachel and Jack both took deep breaths and then she coughed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so touchy."

"I don't have much room to complain," Jack told her. "Besides, of course he wants you. You're hot." The five minute timer went off and he rolled his eyes. "So, I'll, uh, I drew some pictures. I'll have Doc send them off to you. Is Bethy going to stay a while?"

"A few more days, at least. She's a big help."

"We got you presents, too," Helna piped up. She moved next to Rachel and slid her arm around the other woman's shoulders. "But you have to come home to open them."

"But you're Jewish."

"Doesn't mean we can't give you presents on an international gift-giving holiday, no matter how inaccurate it is."

"I think all religion is inaccurate."

"But yet, God loves you anyway."

Jack raised his eyebrow at Helna. "Yes, God does. Think very hard about that, Helna, and then tell me if you're still religious after the logical conclusion has been reached."

He got a sweet smile, but what was better was the smile on Rachel's face as she looked down at their daughter. No one had mentioned anything to him, but Jack had been worried about post-partum depression. He wanted Rachel to love Ava, even when he wasn't there. Tom came over to join in the heckling, and Susie was handed Ava to burp after a while. The only thing missing, really, was Janet. As the time left counted down, goodbyes were said hurriedly and tearfully, and Jack got the tight, panicky feeling in his chest again. He pressed his fingers to his lips and then to the screen, and Rachel did the same.

"At least I'll see you during the trial," he said lightly.

"We'll be down every weekend we can." It was a promise, and Jack nodded.

"I'll hurry home. I . . ."

"I know," Rachel murmured. "I love you, too."


	6. Chapter 6

One week. One week. One week one week oneweekoneweekoneweek. His heart was racing constantly and his head was all bent out of shape; he was jumpier, couldn't focus, couldn't concentrate. He'd already gotten a warning, and if something else happened, he'd be set back two weeks.

"Hey, you all right, Dawes?" He jumped and whipped around, eyes widening at the guard outside his door. "You need a doctor?"

"I'm surrounded by doctors. I'm in excess of doctors. I don't need a doctor. I'm thirsty. I want soda; give me a strawberry milk."

"I'll have Davidson get you some water. You don't look so good, Dawes. What's up?"

Jack was breathing shallowly, blinking, trying to focus on the guard outside his cell. "Hey, you've got a baby, right? What is it?"

The boy couldn't have been over twenty. What was his name? Nasir. Nasir Barad. He flushed a little and grinned. "Yeah, a little boy. He's eighteen months. Looks like his mama."

"What if you couldn't see him? I mean, here _I_ am," and Jack held his hands shoulder-width apart, palms facing, and dropped them sharply toward the floor before angling them to the side and gesturing once more, "and there _they_ are, and she's a month old today, and I only saw her on Christmas. She's never going to know I exist."

Nasir leaned against the opposite wall. "You worry about that a lot, don't you?"

"Not at all," Jack replied automatically as his gaze slid away from Nasir. "Never crosses my mind."

"I don't think you'd draw her so much if you didn't care. Here, look at this." Nasir stepped forward, digging his wallet out and flipping it open. Jack scootched along the floor until he was by the plexi-glass wall and Nasir crouched down. "This is my boy. I keep his picture with me all the time."

"I keep pictures, too," Jack murmured. The boy was smiling, sitting on a wooden rocking horse, just grinning away at the camera.

"He wouldn't smile, and his mama was about to cry, so I gave her a kiss. Next thing I knew he was giggling, so I kept giving her kisses, and we ended up getting some great photos out of it. Here's one of him and his mama."

"You don't think I'll get out and go after her?"

Nasir laughed. "Dawes, I _know_ you could leave here whenever you wanted, and I also know that instead of running, you sit here all day and draw pictures of your little girls and your wife."

"Do you think I'm going to Hell?"

"Are you asking because you believe in Hell, or because you think _I_ do?" Jack blinked and Nasir chuckled. "The bad guys aren't the only ones who don't believe in a god, Dawes. All I know is that I love my wife and boy, and I'd do anything to keep them safe."

Jack looked away as his water was brought and handed through the bottom of the door. He sipped at it absently. "She was supposed to be born today. Fucking mob . . ." Arkham stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hall toward him, Bruce on his heels. "For someone who hates me, you sure visit me a lot, B."

"Because I carry an illicit love for you and I'm just waiting for the perfect moment to declare it."

"Oh, it's _me_ you've been after all these years, not Rachel? Makes sense."

Arkham pursed his lips slightly as he motioned Jack away from the door. Once clear, he and Bruce entered the cell. "Mr. Dawes, after much consideration ---"

"I finally won an Oscar?"

"--- after much consideration, and provided that your remaining time here is spent productively, Morgenson and I have decided that it would be best if you were moved out of Arkham."

Jack perked up, but narrowed his eyes. "I'm not being sent home."

"You're not being sent home. You need to stay in Gotham, under supervision, at least until your part in the mob trial is over. However, it's obvious that a continuous stay in Arkham would be detrimental to your overall mental health, and putting you in Blackwater or County is equally unadvisable."

"So, where am I staying?" At that point Bruce looked away, shoving his hands in his expensive pockets. Jack stared. "Oh, _hell_ no. Not with him. Anyone but him. Why not Bethany? Or Charles. Charles is a much better idea."

"Both of whom are currently in Loleta."

"Where I should be."

"You _will_ be staying at Wayne Manor under twenty-four hour surveillance until _I_ deem you ready to go back to Loleta, or you will stay incarcerated here for the rest of your life," Arkham snapped. "Those are your _only_ options at this point, Mr. Dawes."

Jack held his hands up in an expression of surrender, slightly taken aback by the other man's sudden irritation. "Fine. Fine. When do I move in? Will I be able to see Rachel?"

"You'll be fitted with a GPS tracking chip that will monitor your movements and alert the police if you go out of a set area. Wayne Manor needs to be thoroughly inspected and possibly retrofitted with extra security measures, but we anticipate moving you out of Arkham within the month. This isn't a reward, Mr. Dawes, this is a safety precaution. Your therapy regimen will stay the same as it is now. You will have greater visitation privileges," and the word was stressed slightly, "but that's all they are: privileges. This isn't a free pass to do as you like, and you will have rules to abide by."

"I haven't been abiding by rules here?" Jack asked mildly.

"You have," Arkham told him with a frown. "And we've seen that it's becoming more and more difficult for you. That's why we're moving you. Arkham Asylum is no longer fit for your continued mental stability. Mr. Wayne ---"

"Wait, a GPS tracking _chip_? You're going to inject me with one of those dog-tracking things?"

Arkham took a deep breath and nodded. "Modified, but yes. Is that a problem?"

Jack shrugged and tap-danced his fingers across his scars. "Nope. Can I get one for Ava? For all of them?"

"We'll talk about it later, Jack," Bruce cut in as Jack started pacing.

"And why am I being moved in with _you_? We're not exactly the best of friends."

"That's exactly why. I have the resources and manpower to keep you in Wayne Manor, and you're not going to throw me into a pity-fit to get what you want. You might be able to do that with Bethany, even if she didn't live outside the city, and Charles would just break you."

Jack stopped and looked over his shoulder at Bruce, then his face split into a grin and he chuckled. "Charles told you to let me stay with you. She _did_!" he chortled as Bruce glowered. "You are _so_ fucking pussy-whipped, B. Fine, I don't want Charles hurting me; I'm sure we can behave. Now, I get to see Rachel and Ava next week, unless you think I'll try to hurt the baby I gave everything up to save." Arkham cleared his throat and Jack talked on. "I want to hold her. Chain me down if you want, but I want to hold her. It's fine by me if she's sleeping, but I'd prefer if she were awake and could see me. She's mine. I want to make her an outfit." He was pacing, clasping his hands and rubbing them together, then wiggling his fingers as he thought. "Is there a, uh, conjugal trailer or something?"

"I seriously doubt that a _conjugal_ setting would do anything for you, Mr. Dawes," Arkham told him wearily.

"Of course it won't; you've got me plenty drugged up. Doesn't mean Rachel might not appreciate it. Christ on a cracker, I hope she jills off and tells me about it . . ."

Bruce spoke up before he could get much further. "Alfred's making a list of house rules for you, Jack. He's also been to the shooting range more often the past week or so." He grinned at the suddenly blank, somewhat wide-eyed stare he got. "But we'll talk more about that later. I know you have therapy to go to." He breezed out with Arkham on his heels, Jack cursing at him, and Nasir trying not to laugh.

***

Helna looked at her over a steaming mug of cocoa and raised her eyebrows. "So . . ."

Rachel took a sip and raised her eyebrows back at her friend. "So . . . what?"

"You're going to Gotham this weekend."

That made her heart pound and Rachel nodded as she swallowed. "Yes. Mom has to go back."

Helna wasn't going to let her beat around the bush. "Are you taking Ava when you go see Jack?" She watched Rachel look down at the baby, who was awake and looking around as she chewed on her hand. "He'll want to see her. Will they let you bring her in? I've got the perfect onesie for her to wear."

"I have to take her to Gotham. She won't take a bottle."

"And you're taking her to see Jack." The door opened and Veronica flounced to the counter, and Helna watched Rachel's expression swing from surprise to pain to outright loathing and back around. She glanced over her shoulder as the deli girl was thoroughly berated for simply greeting Veronica, then looked back at Rachel. "And this is when you tell me what's going on with Veronica."

"Nothing's going on with Veronica," Rachel said through stiff lips. Veronica turned in a huff and leaned back against the counter as the deli girl hurried to get her order. She glanced their way and started, her face going pale before she turned back to the counter.

"Something's going on," Helna pressed gently. "Rachel ---"

"She slept with Jack, all right?" Rachel hissed. She hadn't let herself be angry about the affair, having been too involved with surviving, but now hot tears welled up in her eyes and she wanted to scream. "A lot. And they taped it and sent it to me so they could take me and the girls. We would have gotten out of that office if they hadn't --- if I hadn't ---"

Helna sat back a bit in surprise and blinked. She didn't stop Rachel from going to the restroom and didn't follow her, and it was only after Veronica had left that Rachel came back. Her eyes were red and she was still sniffling.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just --- he _said_ it was because he didn't want to hurt me or Ava. He said she knew where they were. I knew something was wrong," Rachel muttered as she covered her eyes with one hand. "I knew it. I knew he was lying to me. I asked him, he said he kept getting invited out, told me I had wanted him to be more social, so he was, but . . . but something was wrong. I knew it. I, I ignored it."

"Nobody wants to know when they're being cheated on," Helna said quietly. "Rachel, I'm so sorry . . ."

"It's not your fault."

Helna sighed. "Is that why you don't want to take Ava to see him? It's obvious you're stalling about the decision," she said when Rachel looked up sharply. "Are you trying to punish him, or do you not think he'll be a fit father?"

"I don't want to punish him. I mean, I , I _do_, but . . . I don't. I can't. It's not fair, but I look at Ava and I get so _mad_ at him for not telling me, not trusting me . . . I just want to pack us all up and leave, sometimes. Sometimes I don't even know why I love him. He's killed people --- he killed _Harvey_ --- and he's only sorry because . . . I don't even know if he's sorry. Not for most of them. Harvey, maybe, just because I loved him. But he truly doesn't care about anyone other than himself. How can I love someone like that?"

"He cares about _you_," Helna said as she leaned over to pull Ava's small crocheted hat down over her ears. "He cares about Janet, and Susie, and Mitzi. Jack cares about more people than just himself, Rachel. Not many more, but he's learned to care about others. I can't tell you why you love him, but if it helps, Tom and I hated each other up through middle school. Couldn't stand each other. I moved away for a year or so, and when I moved back we met again, and hit it off almost immediately. I asked him one day why we used to hate each other, and he told me he didn't know. I'm glad we stopped, though, and learned to love each other." She tilted her head at Rachel as Edward Nashton pushed the deli door open and headed to the counter with a grin for the deli girl. "What's bugging you, sweety?"

"Has Tom . . . ever seemed like he might hurt Mitzi?"

Helna sighed deeply. "He gets mad. He's got a horrible temper; I know, it doesn't seem like it, but I've walked out of that house twice because I thought he might hit me. We've been together for five years. I knew he'd been abused, and my father told him point-blank that if he ever hurt me, he'd go after him and no one would find the body. But no, every time Tom gets angry, he leaves the room. He doesn't want Mitzi to see us fight and he _doesn't_ want to hurt her. Why don't you come to schul with us on Friday?"

Rachel blinked at her. "I'm sorry?"

"Come to schul with us on Friday," Helna repeated. "Susie can play with some of the other children, Janet can watch Mitzi and Ava, and you can relax a bit. Bethany and Charles can come, too. Don't tell me you're relaxed at home," she said as Rachel started to speak, "because you wouldn't look so horrible when you come in for lunch if you were relaxing. You're too isolated. Martha just had a baby early, too. She can give you some pointers."

"I couldn't," Rachel protested. "I'm not Jewish."

"So?" Helna rolled her eyes. "I wasn't, either, when I started going with Tom. Well, religiously, not genetically. My grandmother in Israel was _so_ happy that I converted. You don't need to be Jewish to come to schul. Come on, then we'll go to Kiss-N-Tell after." There was spluttering just as Ava was sprayed with coffee. The baby's eyes got huge, then she opened her mouth and started howling in protest as Rachel grabbed for her and started wiping her off.

"I'm _so_ sorry," Edward coughed as he set his coffee down on the next table and grabbed some napkins from it. "Is she all right?" He coughed again. "I'm sorry, you were talking about schul, I wasn't expecting the last part ---"

"Do you make it a habit to eavesdrop?" Helna asked acidly as she checked Ava over. The baby had just been surprised and didn't like being wet. "She's fine, she's not hurt." Rachel cradled Ava against her shoulder and kissed the side of her head gently, making shushing noises at her until the girl calmed down and stopped crying.

"It's not eavesdropping if I can hear you from the next table," Edward replied. "I'm sorry, Rachel, I didn't mean to ---"

Rachel waved him away as she glared at Helna, who shrugged and held her hands out in front of her in a 'What can I do?' gesture. "It's fine, Mr. Nashton. She's not hurt. Was there something you needed?"

"I was hoping to ask Mrs. Fine some questions about Judaism, but it can wait. Ah, thank you," he said as the deli girl brought him more coffee and started wiping up the mess on the floor. Ava had started hiccupping, looking surprised as each hiccup rocked her tiny body. Edward smiled. "She's filled out a lot."

Rachel opened her mouth to give a snappy response, but sighed and closed it as she nodded. She sat Ava on the table and cradled the baby's head in her hands, tilting her own head at her daughter. "Yes, she has. We're going to see Daddy this weekend, aren't we?" she asked the baby. She got another hiccup in response, and patted Ava's back lightly. "Daddy's excited to see you; he misses you." Confused by her hiccups, Ava twisted her face into a bewildered expression and flapped her arms a bit with each one. It was the first time that something she'd done had made Rachel laugh. The squeaks she was making helped.

Edward laughed a little, too, and pulled up a chair and sat. "Where's the little demon?"

"Susie and Janet are . . . busy right now. They should be back soon."

"You're going to have your hands full with that one, in a few years," he went on as Helna rolled her eyes. Rachel flushed slightly and looked away from his charming smile, unable to help returning it a little.

"She's a handful _now_, as it is. We'll have to put bars on the windows when she's old enough to sneak out." She raised her mug and made a face when she realised it was empty.

Edward flagged down the deli girl. "Let me get you a refill."

"I couldn't impose ---"

"It's not an imposition if I offer," Edward told her. "Another cocoa for Rachel, please," he said as the deli girl walked up. He looked at Rachel's doubtful expression and winked. "Honest. It's not a problem. I have more money than I know what to do with, and treating beautiful women to cocoa is one of the more pleasurable ways I can think of to spend it."

"I'm married, Mr. Nashton," Rachel reminded him as she flushed again.

"Edward. And I know. I think your husband would agree that you're beautiful. He's not the jealous type, is he?"

Rachel honestly had to think about that as she put Ava back in her carseat. When _did_ Jack get jealous? "Uhm . . . No, not really. Only when someone is seriously trying to hit on me."

"Are you kidding me?" Helna scoffed. "His only rule is that he gets to _watch_, Rachel. Not even join in. _Watch_." Then her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes bugged out.

Edward laughed. "Sounds like a man, to me."

"Well, I'm not interested in anyone else, so he's out of luck," Rachel said quickly, glaring at Helna. She covered her eyes when the memory of that horrible video came back, but Edward mistook the gesture for embarrassment and handed her the cocoa the deli girl brought.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I won't tease you, I promise. No need to be embarrassed. Just mention that Susie's at the age where she's curious about _everything_, and if she hears anything odd, she'll probably open the door to see what's going on."

Now mortified, Rachel laughed at the image. "Oh, God, no. Stop it. You said you wouldn't tease me!"

They was still chuckling when Charles stepped through the door, and Rachel turned to her as Edward straightened in his seat. "Where are the girls?"

"With Dr. Wong. You, Nashton." Charles stomped over to him and placed her fists on her hips, looking between him and Rachel.

He looked up at her and licked his lips. "How can I help you, Charles?"

"I got you Internet access; it's not complete, but you can at least do a little research online."

She was still sounding upset, and Edward nodded slowly. "Thank you. Ah, is there anything else?"

"Yes, in fact." She looked pointedly at Rachel. "Is there something you've forgotten to tell Rachel? Something you're legally obligated to tell people?"

Edward had sort of shrunk in on himself, obviously upset. "When you say it like that, people think I'm a paedophile. I'm not," he told Rachel and Helna quickly as they both blinked in surprise. "I'm not. I just . . . have a criminal record." Charles was still staring at him, drumming her fingers on her arms. He rolled his eyes and pulled himself up, leaning on his cane as he looked down at the two women and slapped some money on the table. "I used to go by Nigma. E. Nigma. Figure it out."

With that he turned as quickly as he could and stalked out of the deli, cursing as the cold wind hit him. Rachel watched him work his way across the street and then her hand flew to her mouth in surprise.

"I don't . . . What was _that_ about?" Helna asked.

"E. Nigma was the alias of the Riddler," Rachel told her quietly. She looked at Charles, who nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because it's _his_ responsibility to tell the authorities and people he's in close contact with who he is, not mine," she said as she sat in Edward's vacated chair.

"The Riddler?" Helna asked.

"He was a bit more Gotham-centric than Jack was," Charles told her. "The Riddler was the least violent of the Rouge Gallery of criminal masterminds. He's mostly driven by ego, proving that he's _so_ much smarter than everyone else, including the other Rogues. Specialised in stealing the unstealable, building gigantic puzzles to trap his enemies in . . . It's all ego, for him. He was really heavily into white-collar crime in order to fund it all. Identity theft, mostly, some black market trading . . . His obsession with riddles is clinical. He can't _not_ leave clues behind. That's why he went to Arkham instead of jail. It was suggested during therapy that he turn his obsession toward something productive, and he started writing. I own his publishing company."

Tom walked in with Mitzi, who squealed and ran straight toward Helna. She veered off at the last moment when she saw Ava, though, pulling herself over the car seat to give the baby a kiss.

"Ava! Ava! Dada, Ava! Mama! Mama, Ava!"

Tom laughed as he bent to give his wife a kiss. "Yes, that's Ava, Mitzi. Hey, beautiful."

"Hold baby," Mitzi demanded as she tried to unbuckle Ava. "Hold baby?"

"Edward Nashton is the Riddler. Do you know who he is?" Helna asked after the kiss.

"Some guy from Gotham. Does this mean Rachel and Charles can't watch Mitzi for half an hour?" Tom asked from the side of Helna's neck.

"I'm serious, Tom," she said as she pushed him away.

"And I've seriously got half an hour to take you home, do some very quick, _wonderful_ things to you, and get back to work. Yeah, he's got a record. Chief Johnson told me. Said Charles has him on a pretty tight leash, too, and when Charles has someone on a tight leash, they don't _sneeze_ without her permission. Mitzi, ask Rachel if you can hold Ava. Are we going home for a bit or not? I have a serious need to get you pregnant again."

Mitzi turned to Rachel and beamed at her. "Hold baby?"

Helna's jaw dropped. "Tom!"

"All right, fine, we'll talk about it later, but we really need to practice. Charles, will you watch Mitzi?"

"I don't see that I have a choice," she muttered. "Go on, get. Nashton's harmless, Helna. Go!"

"Be good, Mitzi!" Helna said as she dropped a kiss on her daughter's head. She was ignored as Mitzi pleaded, again, to be allowed to hold Ava. "Remember, schul on Friday and then the shop!" she called from the door.

Rachel sighed and started unbuckling Ava. "Fine. Sit down, Mitzi. You have to sit to hold Ava. No, on the chair," she corrected as Mitzi plopped down on the floor and held her arms out. Once the toddler was in the chair, Rachel lifted Ava out of the carseat and placed her on Mitzi's lap. "Hold her gently."

Mitzi was beaming as she placed another kiss on Ava's cheek. "Baby, baby, baby, baby," she sang.

"You keep an eye on her," Charles said sternly.

"I will," Rachel said with just a touch of frustration.

"Are you upset about Nashton?"

"I trust that you've got him under control," was the reply. "Jack's not going to be happy he's in town." Then Rachel laughed. "Although I asked him once, what he'd do if the Riddler were reformed and moved to town, if he wouldn't want to make sure he wasn't a danger to me."

Charles smiled and moved closer to Mitzi as she cooed at Ava. "Just don't mention anyone else moving to town. I'm not sure Loleta will survive."

Rachel was looking up toward Edward's apartment, then looked back at Charles. "Could you watch them for a little while? Just a few minutes."

Charles raised her eyebrows as the deli girl brought her tea, and looked out the window. "Are you sure?"

"Just a few minutes," Rachel promised. She ruffled Mitzi's hair and kissed Ava's forehead. "Mommy will be right back, Ava. Be good."

She gave Charles an expectant smile, then hurried out the door when she got a permissive wave of the hand. Once outside, she pulled her parka close and fought against the wind to get to the small door just to the side of Shotz and opened it, sighing at the narrow stairs. She trudged up them as they twisted around, then looked both ways down the corridor they opened up to. Once she'd orientated herself, she walked quickly to the corner apartment and raised her fist. She paused, biting her lip. There was no law saying she couldn't visit someone at home. Jack wasn't there to object, and she wasn't there to do anything but talk. She wasn't doing anything wrong.

So, heart pounding, Rachel lifted her hand once again and knocked three times on the door.


	7. Chapter 7

His green eyes were narrow and guarded when he cracked the door open. The security chain was still attached. The curtains were drawn and the lights were down low, leaving what was visible of the apartment behind him in murky darkness. He waited.

Rachel cleared her throat and lifted her chin a little. "You didn't have to leave, Edward."

She'd meant to put him at ease by using his first name, but his eyes narrowed even more. "Don't you have an infant to take care of?"

"Charles is watching her. Really, you didn't have to leave. Tom and Helna went home for lunch, and I ---" And she . . . what? Wanted the company of someone unfamiliar with her life? Knew that Jack would most likely pitch a fit if she were socialising, not with just _any_ man, but with the Riddler? Wanted to be told that she was beautiful again? Wanted to be around someone _else_ who couldn't muster up the love for Ava that she was supposed to be feeling? Edward arched an eyebrow. "I don't mind your company," Rachel finished. "I'm well acquainted with Charles; if she says she has someone under control, she has them under control. If she didn't warn me about who you were, then it's because she doesn't think you're a threat."

"You don't seem to care for your husband much," Edward observed.

Rachel felt like she'd been punched in the stomach and shook her head sharply in denial. "I love my --- I love him," she told the other man. "We're going through a rough time right now, is all. Ava was premature, he's in the hospital in New York . . ."

Edward evaluated her for a moment longer, then straightened with a sigh and leaned against the doorjamb, his shoulder keeping the door from closing as he looked up at the ceiling. "Mrs. Fine is very protective of you."

"Yes."

"You were Gotham's D.A., Rachel."

"I was," she confirmed, looking down the hallway. Did he know about Jack? "You were in Arkham for most of my terms."

He brushed idly at his jacket. "They didn't let me watch the news much. Don't want me planning a great heist, or anything like that. Hence the limited access to information and the residence in such a small town." He gave her a brief smile and ran a hand through his hair. "Although living in Loleta _is_ partly for research. I wonder if Mrs. Fine will let me near her husband . . . He seems to be recovering from an injury, though . . ."

"It's not my place to discuss that," Rachel said as she glanced down the hallway again. "Helna got all the mothering instinct that I didn't, apparently." Another glance. "I don't mind your company," she repeated.

"Well, thank you for that assurance, Rachel. I'm not feeling up to another trek down and up those stairs today; give my best to Charles, would you? I'm sure your baby is missing you."

It was clearly a dismissal, but it wasn't said cruelly. Everything about him said that Edward was being honest and earnest. He turned as if to close the door and gave her a slight, crooked smile. Rachel smiled back as she nodded. "I will. Have a good day, Edward."

"Of course. You, too, Rachel."

"I will," she murmured as she stepped back and he shut his door. She turned down the hallway and almost skipped down the stairs, then jogged across the street and arrived in the deli, face flushed and panting, just as Susie sat down with her sandwich. Janet was holding Ava at the table next to Susie, talking with Cathy as Charles picked all the kalamata olives out of her Greek salad and watched over the group.

Janet looked up and smiled nervously at Rachel. She'd been spending more time with Cathy, often reluctantly, and it made her anxious when it was pointed out. "We got Ava a new onesie," she murmured, turning the sleepy baby around so Rachel could see. Across the teal, too-large onesie, 'Be nice to me --- I'm a preemie!' was scrawled in childish script.

"That was the smallest they had," Cathy put in. She glanced at Janet. "Uhm . . ."

Rachel smiled as she took the baby and cuddled her, leaning down to smell her and kiss her forehead. Ava immediately started rooting, and when Charles looked up, Rachel sat to feed her. Cathy was still watching Ava, and when Rachel caught Janet's quick headshake, she managed to put two and two together and smiled at the girl. "You can hold her when I'm done feeding her, Cathy."

"Really?" Cathy said quickly, perking up. Then she coughed and looked away. "I mean, thanks, Mrs. Dawes. If it's okay."

"'Ey! Ai'yeh'a 'urbber!"

Rachel sighed. "Susie, do _not_ speak with your mouth full."

The girl swallowed as quickly as she could, needing a moment to take a drink, then cleared her throat and glared at Cathy. "I get to burp her! I always burp Ava!"

"Because _I_ let you," Rachel told her sharply. "You won't always get to burp Ava. Who do you think burps her when you're asleep?" Susie's lower lip quivered and she looked down, sullen. Rachel sighed after a minute or two and relented. "Don't sulk, Susie. You can burp Ava, and then Cathy can hold her." Susie perked up almost immediately, and Rachel sighed with relief.

***

"Not another riddle," Rachel groaned as she saw the smile that Edward had. "You really don't need to prove that you're cleverer than I am, Edward. Besides, Helna's going to be here soon."

"I'm not as afraid of Mrs. Fine as she'd like me to be," he countered, "but, yes, another riddle. I'm not trying to prove my intellectual superiority at all; I'm simply doing my part to keep you occupied."

"_And content_," she added. "You forgot the most important part, and I don't believe you for a second about the superiority thing. You, Edward," and she pointed her fork at him as he sat across from her, "have one of the largest egos I've encountered, and I've met some very large egos."

"Yes, I keep forgetting that you're Bruce Wayne's best friend. These are simple," he continued. "Try this one: This thing runs but cannot walk, sometimes sings but never talks. Lacks arms, has hands; lacks a head but has a face."

Rachel shook her head. "I'm not answering that. I'm not. You can't make me."

"It's a clock with hands," Susie said from under the table.

Both adults jumped a little, and Edward leaned back in his chair so he could see the other redhead. "Pardon?"

"It's a clock with hands," she repeated as she crawled out, holding one of Ava's toys; it squeaked every time she wiggled it to emphasise her speech. "You know, those long straight things on non-digital clocks? One's longer and points to the minutes, one's shorter and points to the hour?" She was looking at him like he was stupid, and hit him in the knee with the toy.

"And how do you know that?" he asked. It was possible that he was irritated that she'd figured it out when Rachel had refused to consider it.

Susie sighed and pointed at the clock on the wall. "A clock runs; on batteries, you know? But it can't walk. It sings when it's an hour with no minutes, but it doesn't talk. It has hands, like I said, and it's got a face. The face of the clock, with the numbers? You know?"

"You're pretty rude, _you know_," Edward told her with a frown.

"But I'm right."

"So is Edward," Rachel said firmly. Susie rolled her eyes and started to turn away, but Rachel reached out and grabbed her shoulder. "You need to be polite, Susie. Apologise."

"I'm not sorry," the girl complained. "Daddy says you shouldn't apologise unless you're sorry."

"Is it okay to be rude, Susie?"

". . . No," Susie said cautiously as she stopped squirming.

"Then tell Mr. Nashton that you shouldn't have been rude to him."

Reluctantly, Susie turned to Edward. "I shouldn't have been rude to you," she mumbled. "Can I go, now?"

"Fine, go," Rachel sighed. She watched the girl run outside and cling to Janet, no doubt tattling about how mean Edward had been and how unfair Rachel was, and turned back to her companion. "I'm sorry, Edward. She's been acting up a lot, lately."

He shrugged. "Her father's not at home, her older sister's not paying much attention to her, and you're occupied with the baby. Seems reasonable, to me. It's not all right," he said warningly, "but I _can_ see where she's coming from." Rachel covered her lips when tears threatened to fall, and he smiled. "She's smart. How old is she, again?"

"Six," Rachel told him. "She took the MENSA test and scored very high on it; she'll show you her card if you ask."

Edward whistled, long and low, and turned to look outside. "MENSA, huh? At six? No wonder she thinks everyone else is a moron."

"It doesn't help that her mother died recently, too." Rachel cursed herself as soon as the words left her mouth, but Edward didn't seem surprised by the revelation. He simply nodded and turned back to her.

"It's hard to lose a parent. At least she's got you and her father, whenever he comes home. When will he, by the way?"

Rachel almost laughed; Edward seemed to be under the impression that Susie and Janet were her stepchildren. Which, she figured, worked out just fine for the time being. She didn't need him knowing right away that Jack was her husband.

"I don't know," she told him honestly. "But we're going to see him tomorrow. We . . . We'll know more, then."

Edward looked at her for a long moment before replying, "Good luck." Then he took out a notepad and pencil and started asking her questions about the legal system, which kept Rachel occupied until Helna and Tom showed up.

"Sorry to interrupt," Helna said as her tone implied no such remorse. "Are you ready, Rachel?" She had Mitzi on her hip, and the baby was reaching for the kippah that Helna was wearing. "Stop it, Mitzi."

"I thought that only men wore those," Edward said as he stood up to leave.

Helna rolled her eyes at him as Mitzi ripped the kippah off with a laugh. "God created women last. We're the holiest of His creations. Men have so many --- give it _back_, you rotten thing! --- so many restrictions placed on them just to get them to the level of holiness that women start out at. I'll wear what I want. Mitzi! Give Mama the kippah, _now_. Tom!"

"She's a woman," he replied with a shrug. "She'll do what she wants." He ducked Helna's glare, literally, and when he popped back up, he plucked the kippah from Mitzi's hands as she was starting to chew on it. "Stop it, Mitzi," he told her firmly when she started to cry and reach for the kippah. "This isn't yours, it's Mama's. Stop crying."

"Dada . . ." Huge tears plopped down Mitzi's cheeks as she reached for the head covering. She squealed when Tom handed her a toy instead and threw it down, her face red as she started working up towards a howl.

Tom's face twisted into a snarl and he bent, picking up Ava's car-seat before walking out of the deli without a word. Rachel glanced at Helna before hurrying to the door, but he'd handed to carrier to Janet, who was buckling it into the car. Tom was leaning against the front passenger door and tapping the top of the car rhythmically as he frowned.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Get in, Susie." Janet slid in after her sister, closing the door.

"It's all right," Rachel told him.

"You thought I might hurt Ava?"

"I ---" Rachel paused and thought about it. "No," she finally said. "I didn't think you were going to hurt her. I just, you walked out with her, and I . . ."

Tom finally looked up at her with a smile. "You went after your baby. It's all right; Helna almost ripped my head off the first time I took Mitzi to a different room and didn't tell her. I just . . . have to leave, sometimes. I guess Helna already told you about it."

Rachel nodded and they stood there awkwardly for a few moments until Helna led Mitzi outside. Helna was once again wearing her kippah, and Mitzi was looking down at the ground, thoroughly chastised.

"Go on," Helna said as she gave the girl a gentle push forward. "Tell Daddy that you're sorry for misbehaving." With her lower lip pushed out and her eyebrows knit together, Mitzi stumbled forward until she hit Tom's legs. She buried her face in them and clung to his slacks and mumbled what could reasonably be taken as an apology.

Tom bent over and picked her up with a smile, hugging her tightly. "It's okay, baby," he said as he kissed her cheek. "I love you, Mitzi." Mitzi threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly as she started crying again, most likely out of relief that she wasn't in trouble any more.

"Well, let's go, then," Helna said cheerily as she watched Tom take Mitzi to their car. "Just follow us."

Rachel got into the front passenger seat just as Bethany came out of the deli, and was settling in for a quiet ride when Janet spoke up. "I don't want to go to Gotham this weekend," she mumbled.

Rachel flipped the sun visor down and looked at Janet's reflection in the small mirror. "Excuse me?"

Janet shifted in her seat and wrapped her arms around her torso, not meeting Rachel's eyes. "I don't want to go, tomorrow. I just . . . I want to stay here. Please."

Rachel took a deep breath and Bethany reached for her hand as soon as she was buckled up. She didn't need this right now. She needed Janet to do as she was told. "You have to. You can't be without a legal guardian, which is me. And I'm going to Gotham for the weekend, so you're going, too." The idea was clearly unappetising, as evidenced by Janet's scrunched face and disgusted sigh. "You don't have to go see Jack. Stay in your room at Bruce's, for all I care, but I can't leave you here by yourself. The courts would put you in foster care for real," she said over Janet's half-formed protest.

The girl settled back with a scowl. "Fine," she muttered. "Jack doesn't want to see me, anyway. He wants to see you and Ava."

"Daddy wants to see _me_," Susie said. She looked unsure. "Doesn't he?"

"Yes, he wants to see _all_ of us," Rachel reassured her as Janet rolled her eyes.

"Janet can help me," Bethany broke in gently. "I have to move some stuff around the house." Rachel looked at her mother and opened her mouth to protest, but Bethany simply raised her eyebrows at the road and Rachel kept quiet. She didn't know how to deal with Janet's periodic outbursts, and if Bethany did, Rachel wasn't going to object.

Tom and Helna were waiting outside the synagogue when they pulled up. Rachel was expecting the rabbi and his wife, along with everyone else, to be curious and ask her questions about Jack, expected them to want to hold Ava, but other than asking after her and the baby's health, there was none of the intruding curiosity that she'd been subjected to in town --- just honest inquiries after her and Ava's health, and a welcoming warmth as introductions were made. When Rachel mentioned it just before the services started, Ava curled up and asleep in her baby sling, Helna just smiled and placed her fingers on her lips as she and Tom twisted the knotted cords of his prayer shawl around and between their linked hands. Obviously the Fines had spread the word to not be nosy, and given the nosy nature of all the Jews that Rachel had ever met, she was surprised that Tom and Helna had managed to keep a lid on things.

The rabbi started out speaking briefly about Jewish issues, what the Jewish people were currently experiencing. His gaze moved over the congregation, and he seemed to be making eye contact with as many people as possible. Rachel listened politely, but it was nothing that she could take on a personal level, and she didn't understand the Hebrew terms the man used. Then he struck a chord.

"In contrast to Christianity," he said, "which thinks in terms of nouns, Judaism speaks with verbs. With us, action is the big thing. We don't speak of God's nature, but of His will, His deeds. _Action_ is what drives us; without it, we stagnate. We see God as dynamic, always in action, always moving. This is how He shows us His face. He is the great protector of humanity, even though at times it seems like He's forsaken us. We see Him reflected in the faces of our peacekeepers," and here he looked at Tom, "who risk their lives on a daily basis to keep the rest of us safe. We see Him reflected in those of us who give everything to keep our families protected. The deeds we accomplish in that pursuit are not always the holiest, and God sees that, but He also sees our efforts. He sees our action, our momentum, our _drive_ to make our personal worlds more secure, our fight to keep what we find the most precious. Without that drive, we fall into apathy; we allow our families, our homes, our societies to crumble. Our ways are not always Godlike, but our drive _is_."

Rachel stared at the rabbi, her mouth half open as he continued without once looking right at her. He moved on to a different topic, and then there was some singing, some standing and sitting, and the Torah was brought around for everyone to touch. There was more singing, and then the service was over. Tom and Helna had to lead Rachel out into the large dining area, where a post-sermon snack was laid out.

"Are you all right?" Tom asked.

Rachel had been dabbing at her eyes as surreptitiously as she could. The rabbi hadn't named names, hadn't pointed any fingers, but she knew that he couldn't have been talking about anyone other than Jack. "I'm fine," she whispered. She turned quickly as Susie ran past, shrieking. Three other children followed her. All of them were laughing. She looked around and saw Bethany dishing up two plates and Janet following her every movement. She almost looked like she was about the hyperventilate, but kept shaking her head every time Bethany said something and gestured to the door.

"Rabbi's a good man," Tom went on as he gave Rachel a half-hug. He kept his arm draped over her shoulder as he greeted a small group of men.

"You told him that I was coming tonight."

"Might have mentioned it."

"He was talking about Jack."

Tom yawned a bit and bent down to pick Mitzi up as she rushed him, tossing her in the air. "Self-sacrifice in order to protect your family is a very noble, holy thing to do." He tossed Mitzi again, laughing as she shrieked with glee.

"Sleeping with another woman is hardly self-sacrificing."

"Not one bit." Toss, shriek, laugh. "And no one should think _or_ tell you that he was right to do that. He did what he thought he had to do in order to keep you safe; he thought wrong on some of it, but he was dealing with the situation as well as he knew how. Which . . . wasn't very well at all."

Rachel slid her arms beneath Ava and brought the just-waking baby up to her shoulder, cuddling her gently as she started to tear up. "Can I trust him, Tom? To not see her again?"

Tom finally set Mitzi down and she toddled dizzily off toward Helna, giggling. He looked at Rachel for a long moment before replying. ". . . Veronica disgusts Jack. I talked with him a lot in the hospital. He wanted a release from the stress he was under, and the only methods he knows of to cope with that amount of stress are violence and sex. He didn't want to risk getting too rough with you, and Veronica was able to get him a lot of information about the two who took you." He placed both hands on Rachel's shoulders and leaned down a bit to look her firmly in the eye. "That does _not_ make him right to have slept with her, but he didn't think he had anyone he could really confide in. But he wasn't right. And he's _not_ going to see her again."

"So, what, he did an ignoble thing for a noble purpose?" Rachel bit out. "I'm supposed to forgive and forget that he had an affair, just because he thought he had no other choice?"

"_No_," Tom said firmly as he shook his head. "You're supposed to be angry, and hurt, and betrayed, and then you're supposed to talk with --- _with_ --- him about it, and _both_ of you are supposed to decide what to do next."

"Rachel, what's wrong?" Bethany asked as she came up to them.

Rachel settled Ava back into the sling, moving her so that the baby was sitting up more, and took the plate her mother handed her as she shook her head. "I just . . . I just have to talk with Jack about something. Susie, don't climb on that! Look, Mom, it's all right."

Bethany nodded as she took Rachel at face-value. "Are you and Helna still going out?"

"I wanna go," Susie said as she skidded to a halt in front of Rachel.

"Ah, yes," Rachel said. "No, you can't go this time, Susie. They won't let you in; you're too young."

"We'll roast marshmallows," Bethany told the girl.

"Are we still going to see Daddy tomorrow?"

"Are you ready?" Helna asked as she walked up, handing Mitzi back to Tom.

"Of course you're seeing Daddy tomorrow," Bethany said before Rachel could reply. "He's going to be _so_ excited to see you. Go on, Rachel, I'll take the girls home." Susie broke away long enough to give Rachel a hug and a kiss, and then Helna was ushering her into the car.

"They won't let Ava in," Rachel said.

Helna looked up from buckling the baby in and laughed. "She's not going to be traumatised by porn and sex toys at this age. She'll be fine. Even lactating mothers need to get off."

"What if she needs to eat while we're there?"

"Sit in the corner and charge 'em a dollar a minute to watch you feed her." Rachel started and stared at Helna, who laughed as she started the car and pulled out. "Seriously, you can feed her in the sling and no one will notice."

"I suppose you did the same thing with Mitzi?" Rachel asked sarcastically.

"Of course I did. I fed my baby whenever she was hungry, _wherever_ she was hungry." Rachel got a sideways glance and a grin. "Give it up; you're not winning this one."

"I already have plenty of toys at home."

"Lalalala, can't hear you," Helna sang. "I want a new one, anyway, and I need you to buy it for me. I'll pay you back on Monday."

Rachel rolled her eyes and sighed. "Why can't _you_ buy it?"

"Because it's the Shabbat," Helna said simply. "From sundown on Friday until sundown on Saturday. Can't buy things, shouldn't be using technology, nothing but quiet, reflective reverence of God." She pulled into the parking lot and smiled at Rachel. "Come on, sweety. You know you need some time to relax."

"Going to a sex shop is hardly my idea of relaxing," Rachel protested as she got out and turned to get Ava. She was awake, but looking around quietly. Rachel was trying not to laugh, though. When Helna opened the door for her with a flourish, Rachel _did_ laugh as she walked in, trying to be as nonchalant as possible as she adjusted Ava. "I feel like the first time I ever went into one of these places," she confessed.

"Really? What happened?" Helna grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the edible body paint as Rachel followed her. "Oooh, mango . . ."

Rachel cleared her throat and idly glanced over the selection. "I was sixteen, and some friends of mine dared me to go inside the one by our high school. It was a couple blocks away. So I walked in, trying to pretend that I'd been in a dozen shops before, that it wasn't new and that I was scared that I'd get caught and kicked out. I made one round --- I was supposed to stay inside for five minutes --- I made one round before the guy at the counter asked me for my ID. I told him that I'd left it at home, but I was definitely eighteen. Turns out he knew my mother."

Helna laughed as she moved on to the gag gift rack. "Did he tell her?"

"Oh, most definitely. He took me into the office and called her at work, and she had to come down and get me. I was terrified." It was hilarious twenty-four years after the fact, though.

"Ooh, look at this vibrator." Helna gave the display model an experimental squeeze and pursed her lips, considering, then grabbed at a couple more. "Were you grounded?"

"No, she bought me a vibrator, which was just as embarrassing."

That made Helna burst out laughing. "Your mom really bought you a vibrator?"

Rachel nodded. "Yeah. Made me stand outside and she brought me several models to look at and see if I might like. My friends were still there, too. It was humiliating." She snorted. "Although it _did_ get a lot of use. I'd been making do with my removable shower head and our hot tub jets."

"I've never thought of using hot tub jets; I was always a do-it-myself sort of girl, especially since my mother was _very_ anti-masturbation. She kept threatening to time my showers to make sure I wasn't doing it while I bathed." She had finally found a girth that she liked, and held it up. "Yep, this is about right."

"For what?" Rachel asked.

"Tom." Helna gave her an odd look when Rachel blinked and raised her eyebrows, then laughed. "Oh, nonono. Uh, Tom's size. That's what I meant. No, Tom won't let me do _that_. Doesn't mind being the giver, but won't be the taker." She seemed slightly put out.

Clearly, Jack's attempts to corrupt the Fines had been successful. Rachel was having a hard time trying to wrap her mind around the concept of sweet, short, plump little Helna enjoying anal sex, or even finding it appropriate. "Uh, did Jack . . . ?"

Helna laughed. "Oh, heavens, no. Jack had nothing to do with it. Rabbi Maimonides once said, in answer to a question about anal sex, that 'A man's wife is permitted him.' As long as no seed is spilled in vain and a certain amount of propriety is kept, a man can have his wife whenever, however he pleases, and his main goal has to be her pleasure." Then Helna sighed. "I just wish he'd be a little more enthusiastic about oral. _He_ loves it, but won't reciprocate, you know?"

Rachel shook her head as she sized up a few vibrator models. "No, actually. I usually can't get Jack _away_ from me, there. I've torn some hair out a few times, trying to get him to come up so we can actually have sex. I mean, he's _fabulous_ at oral sex, but he's a little too enthusiastic over it sometimes. Jack," she finally said, holding one up.

Helna blinked at the size, then cleared her throat. "Uhm. Jack? Really?"

Rachel laughed as her friend tried to be polite. "Go ahead; it's funny, I know. Yes, really."

". . . Well. That, uhm, explains a lot, if you believe in the cause-and-effect of penis size . . ."

"I've mentioned that. He didn't think it was funny. But he _does_ know how to use it." Rachel set the smaller-than-average vibrator back and waggled her fingers over a few more. "It was kind of a surprise for me, actually. I'd had sex with two men between Harvey and Jack, and only once or twice. Both of them were in the same percentile as Jack, but, uhm, on the other side of average, shall we say?" Helna was giggling at this point. "_Harvey_, now . . . _This_ is, to my recollection, an accurate representation of Harvey." She waved the vibrator at Helna, who was visibly disturbed.

"_That_?"

Rachel looked at the vibrator and nodded. "This. If we didn't get in at least a half-hour of serious foreplay and didn't use enough lube, I'd be sore for _days_ afterward." She sighed and looked down at Ava, who had found her thumb and was sucking on it. "Oh, Christ, and I married that man who set him up to be murdered. I can't be sane."

"Certainly not to take _that_ with any amount of regularity," was Helna's reply. Then she took the large vibrator out of Rachel's hands and compared it to the smaller one, laughing. "Though really, no wonder the Joker wanted him out of the way. Over-compensating, much?" She started sword-fighting with the vibrators and then handed the smaller one to Rachel, which made Rachel dissolve into giggles as she continued the fight. A couple of customers had stopped and were staring, and when Rachel stopped sparring, Helna glanced at them and jerked her thumb at Rachel. "A dollar a minute to watch her feed the baby."

"_Helna_!" Rachel hissed, doubly mortified when one of the men took out his wallet. "She's lying!" she told him sharply, slapping at her friend. "Stop that, you skank!"

"Don't tell me you couldn't use the money," Helna protested as Rachel dragged her to another section. She grabbed a popper and aimed it at Rachel, yanking on the cord.

"Hey!" Rachel hollered as she was covered with penis-shaped confetti. Ava jumped sharply at the sudden pop, her eyes going wide. "You're disturbing the baby! You didn't buy that!"

"Sorry! I'll pay for it!" Helna called up to the front.

"You are _going_ to get us _kicked out_," Rachel snapped.

"You have a penis on your nose," was all that Helna said before she went back to laughing. She put on a beer hat whose straws were shaped like penises at the end and modelled it for Rachel, who was leaning against a rack in order to catch her breath.

"You're awful," she gasped.

Helna brought the two straws together and examined them. "If you put the straws together, it's like fitting Jack in your mouth."

That made Rachel almost howl with laughter. She should have been offended that Helna was making fun of her husband, but it felt good to laugh at him. "I rarely give him blowjobs," she confessed breathlessly.

Helna stared at her like she'd grown a second head, the penis-straws bumping her on the chin. "_What_? How can you _not_ give him blowjobs?"

Rachel shrugged. "I'm just . . . I don't like it. The first boyfriend I slept with, he'd demand that I do it, and he'd keep my head down until he was finished. We broke up after the third time he did it, but . . . I just haven't liked giving blowjobs since then. Sometimes I'll do it for him, but . . . Not often, and not all the way."

"Does he know?" Helna asked. She was concerned, her eyebrows puckering as she frowned.

"If we're going to have a serious discussion about my aversion to fellatio," Rachel told her, "you _have_ to take that hat off." Helna rolled her eyes up in surprise, then took the hat off and set it on the shelf. She looked at Rachel expectantly. "He knows the guy was too pushy about it. If I'd told him he'd forced me to give him head, Jack would have found him and killed him. He, uhm, wasn't very stable, mentally, when the subject came up. Not like he is now. Or, was. And we just never brought it up again. Jack can be surprisingly considerate." She lifted Ava up and brought her to her shoulder when the newborn started making small squeaks. Rachel's voice rose an octave or so. "Hey, baby, what's going on? Those aren't hungry noises. Are you tired of laying down?"

"She's smiling," Helna said.

Rachel tipped Ava a bit, just to see her face. She wasn't. "Were you smiling, baby girl? Huh? Were you smiling?" She twisted at the waist, and the movement prompted a curling of the lips from Ava. "Oh, my, you _are_ smiling! Your first smiles! We told Daddy that you were smiling when you tooted before, just to make him feel better. Now you can really smile at him, can't you? He'll say you're awfully smart for a baby. I bet he wasn't as smart as you are. He just thinks he was. But we know better, don't we?"

"And . . ." There was a shutter noise. "Got it!" Helna held up her cell phone, showing the picture of Rachel and Ava smiling at each other. "He'll love this. Do you feel better?" she asked as she took the basket up to the register.

"Yes." Rachel was surprised that she meant it, but she _did_ feel a lot better. She pulled out her card to pay for Helna's loot. "Feed the cats while we're gone?"

"Glad to," Helna promised with a smile.

*****

**A/N:** The first three sentences of the sermon are taken/paraphrased from a book by Rabbi Bernard L. Berzon, and are not my words.


	8. Chapter 8

He itched. Jack had been scratching at himself, at his arms and neck and legs head and face and chest, for a few hours. He hadn't drawn blood yet, but he was close, even though they'd trimmed his nails as much as they could without hurting him. He tossed and he turned and then he got up and paced, did his best to run and ended up jogging in a circle around his cell. He was panting, breathing through his mouth, and hitting his head solidly against the wall when the door to his cell was flung open and hands grabbed at him, voices babbling over his head as he was wrestled to his cot. He fought. He thrashed around, eyes unable to focus. There were too many of them, and he managed to get an elbow in a stomach and his hands around someone's neck when he was sat on and slapped in the face.

"Dawes! _Dawes_! It's Nasir, Dawes. Look at me."

"Buh?" Jack's arms had been wrestled across his chest, kept there by Nasir's strong grip as the orderlies pulled his sleeve up and jabbed a needle into his bicep. "Ah!"

"Calm down, Dawes, they're just helping. It's a relaxant, Dawes."

"No!" Jack shouted, but whatever they'd given him was taking effect, and when his gaze popped into focus, Nasir's face was only a few inches from his.

"Yes," Nasir told him. "You're panicking, Dawes. You need to calm down."

"D-don't p-p-p-panic," Jack protested, shaking his head as he twitched. His heart felt like it was about to burst and he couldn't stop twitching. He felt like he was suffocating.

"Yes, you are. You're having a panic attack. If you don't calm down, we'll have to transfer you to the hospital wing and keep you under surveillance for forty-eight hours. Rachel and Ava will be here in," he twisted a bit to glance at his watch, "seven hours. If you don't calm down, you won't be able to see them. Look," he went on, reaching a hand out and snapping his fingers. "Mrs. Fine sent us this picture. Look at them, Dawes." He held the picture in front of Jack's face. Ava was curled in Rachel's arms, smiling up at her, and Rachel was smiling back down at the girl. Jack closed his eyes. "_Look at them_. You're going to miss out on this if you don't relax," Nasir said when Jack looked at the picture.

"I c-can't," he moaned.

"You can. You need to. Where's the doctor?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Downstairs," was the reply.

"N-no," Jack mumbled. "No d-d-doctors."

"It's Doctor Morgenson," Nasir assured him. "We called him a half an hour ago. He'll be right up."

"In t-troub-b-ble . . ."

"You're not in trouble," Nasir laughed. "You just need to calm down."

Jack hunched his shoulders as much as he was able and shook his head, still staring at Rachel and Ava's picture. They looked so _happy_ without him. _Without_ him. Without _him_. Nasir continued holding him down for a minute or so, then gently eased off of him and stood up. He let the picture go when Jack grasped for it.

"The sedative's kicked in. You can get back to your posts," the guard told the orderlies. "I'll watch him until Doctor Morgenson gets here." After the cell door closed, he sat on the floor, leaning up against Jack's cot. "I thought you'd be nervous, so I've been keeping an eye on you tonight. She's still tiny."

"Who?" Jack mumbled.

"Ava. She's still tiny. Five weeks, right?"

"Yeah. Head feels funny."

"Good. You know . . . For what you're not there for right now, Dawes . . . In the long run, it's not a lot. Babies' memories don't really develop until about six months. You should be out of here long before then."

"Quit trying to comfort me."

"He's got a point," Morgenson said from the doorway. Jack could barely keep his eyes open to look at the man as Nasir stood up and let him in, then stepped into the hallway.

Jack rolled his eyes away, returning them to his picture. "Get the lecture over with."

"I'm not here to lecture you, Jack, I'm here to make sure that you're not a danger to yourself. I'm here to calm you down." Morgenson brought the desk chair closer as Jack rolled his eyes. "You're nervous about today, Jack. That's perfectly understandable."

"I don't _get **nervous**_."

"When you haven't seen your wife and child in a month, it's a reasonable reaction. Jack, you are _not_ above feeling human emotions. If anything, I would say that you feel them more strongly than most people do --- hard enough to deal with in normal circumstances, but more so when you're unused to the emotion in question. You're still not used to caring for people so deeply, are you, Jack?"

"You mad at me?"

"No. I expected that you would need me tonight." Morgenson leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees as Jack yawned. "I spoke with Rachel tonight ---"

"She knows about Veronica. She won't want me anymore."

"She's certainly upset about it, but she still loves you, Jack. If she didn't, she wouldn't be coming to see you." Morgenson cleared his throat when Jack tried to interrupt him. "Was sleeping with Veronica a smart thing to do?"

". . . Worst mistake of my current life," Jack admitted sullenly.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Morgenson leaned back. "Why was sleeping with Veronica the worst mistake of your current life? Why do _you_ think it was a mistake? I don't want to hear why everyone _else_ thinks it's a mistake. I want to know why _you_ think so."

Jack blinked for a bit as he thought. Then, "She's a dirty whore. Could have given me a disease. Coulda knocked her up. Said I didn't want anyone but Rachel, wouldn't be with anyone but Rachel. Rachel's going to cry. She's going to sit there, and she's going to _cry_, and it's going to be _my_ fault. Couldn't keep my dick in my pants. Couldn't . . . couldn't think of a better way to get the information I needed and to get all the anger out. Couldn't think. Love them _so_ much . . ." Then his face twisted into a snarl and he tried to raise himself up. "The _fuck_ did they give me?! Fucking truth serum?!"

"I'm sure there's a bit of that in the mix," Morgenson said, pleased, as Jack flopped back onto the bed and panted. "We like our patients to be as truthful with us as possible."

"_Fuck_."

"Stop swearing; it'll set a bad example for Ava."

He was having a difficult time keeping his eyes open, for some reason, so Jack closed them. "Mem'ry don't start for a year."

"The courts won't care." There were a few moments of silence, then Morgenson shifted in his chair. "It's all right to love your family, Jack, and it's all right to be nervous about seeing them, nervous about how they're doing without you right now. And even if they're doing fine, it doesn't mean that they don't want you around anymore. They _all_ love you."

"Don't deserve it . . ."

Morgenson smiled as he stood up and tucked the covers around Jack's shoulders. "Maybe, but that's what you've got. We'll start working on how to handle the responsibility later. Good night, Jack."

Jack was smiling as the doctor left. "'Night . . ."

***

"Why didn't Mr. Wayne send a plane?" Janet mumbled for the eight time.

"Be_cause_," Rachel snapped, "he's _not_ our servant, for one, and Ava's too small to fly, for two. Bruce is letting us stay at Wayne Manor as a _favour. Stop. Whining_." She closed her mouth, determined to not be drawn into another argument, but start talking again right away, in a softer tone. "I know you don't want to be doing this, Janet. I'm sorry. If I felt safe leaving you at home, if the courts wouldn't pitch a fit over it, I would. I don't . . . I don't want to put any of us under any more stress than we need to be under, but I need to see Jack, and you need to not be left on your own. Stay with Mom. Stay in your room." She looked in the rear-view mirror, adjusting it down a bit to check that Ava and Susie were still asleep. "I just need you to deal with this for one night. Please."

"Will Dick be there?" Janet asked in a small voice after a while.

Right, they'd had a sort of romance going on. "He lives with Bruce," Rachel said slowly, "so he'll probably be there. I'm sure he'd be glad to stay somewhere else if you need him to."

"No," Janet said quickly. Rachel glanced at her and she was hunched in on herself, staring at her feet. "No, he doesn't . . . I mean, he shouldn't have to . . . I mean ---"

"Dick cares about you, Janet. If him being there will make you uncomfortable, he'll go somewhere else for the weekend. Or, you can stay with Mom."

"He doesn't care," Janet whispered.

Rachel glanced at her with a frown as she changed lanes. "Of course he cares, Janet. He tried to visit you in the hospital, but Bruce made him stay in Gotham."

The girl shook her head. "No," she whimpered. "I'm . . . I'm damaged. He won't care about me anymore. I'm broken."

The emergency lights went on and Rachel pulled off to the left as quickly as she could. Janet was shaking with tears by the time she got the car safely stopped on the side if the freeway, and Rachel unbuckled and leaned over, taking Janet in her arms and holding her while she cried.

"No, sweety, you're not broken, we still love you . . ."

"I _am_," Janet sobbed. "I was . . . They, they . . . I let them . . . Susie . . . I let them . . . No one wants a girl like that!"

"Oh, _sweety_," Rachel breathed. "Is _that_ what you think happened? Janet, look at me." She tilted Janet's chin up until the girl look at her. "You . . . They would have raped you anyway, Janet. They would have hurt Susie until you went with them, if they couldn't force you out of the room any other way. You didn't want them to touch you, Janet, and they did it anyway. _You did nothing wrong_, do you understand?" Janet clung to her and cried, shaking her head. Rachel held her tightly. "Janet, Dick is _worried_ about you. He calls every week, to see how you're doing. He'll ask how Ava and Susie and I are, but then he goes straight to _you_. He wants to come up to Loleta to keep you safe. He doesn't think you're a bad person, Janet."

"He doesn't know I let them," Janet whispered.

"You 'let' them," Rachel said firmly, "in order to keep you baby sister safe. You could have let them hurt her, but you didn't. Janet, I've persecuted a _lot_ of rape cases. They had to manipulate you into going with them, and that makes it rape."

"I liked it."

"You liked it when you were on drugs, drugs you didn't want in the first place."

Janet whined high in the back of her throat. "I wanted them! They said they'd make me like it, make it not hurt . . ."

She trailed off and it was a few more minutes before Rachel said anything. Finally, she reached for some napkins from their last stop and wiped at Janet's tears. "They would have shot you up anyway," she said quietly, looking into Janet's brown eyes. "You went with them to keep Susie safe, and you let them give you heroin to keep _you_ safe. That wasn't wrong of you, Janet. If you had fought them, they might have killed you."

"I still want the drugs," Janet told her, her voice hitching.

"That's why they call it an addiction," Rachel countered gently. "And that's why you go see Helna, why you see Pamela." She smiled and brushed the bangs from Janet's face. "Dick wanted to know what your favourite flower was, when he called yesterday."

Janet started a bit and looked at Rachel suspiciously. "Really?"

Rachel nodded. "Really. He doesn't think you're a whore, or, or damaged goods, or sloppy seconds, or _whatever_ it is that you think he thinks you are. Nobody worth knowing thinks that. And anyone who does, is an idiot. Trust me. I know an idiot when I hear about one."

That made Janet laugh, and she nodded as she wiped at her face. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I just, I get so mad, and I can't, I don't know _why_, I mean I do, but I . . . I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Rachel said. "I'm sorry, too. I haven't been paying much attention to you. You've seemed like you've been doing just fine. You haven't. I'm sorry, Janet."

The girl ducked her head, then cleared her throat and pulled away. Rachel straightened. "Are you sure Dick wants to see me?"

"He's chomping at the bit," Rachel said dryly as she started the car and shut the emergency lights off. Janet was quiet as Rachel eased back into traffic.

Then, "Do you want me to drive?"

"I'm fine, thank you. We're almost there. About half an hour." Then she smiled. "You can drive some on the way back, though."

"Okay," Janet murmured. "Whenever you need me to."

***

"You awake, Dawes?" Nasir was saying an hour later. He glanced over his shoulder at Rachel, a half-smile on his lips. "He got a little antsy last night; we had to sedate him. Barely got him down here. Hey, Dawes. Wakey-wakey! I've got a baby here with your name on her . . ."

"Nnf?" Jack mumbled, trying to force his eyes open and sit up at the same time. He was breathing heavily with the effort. "Gi' . . . me . . ."

"Yeah, sure, no problem. Here they are. One wife, one baby, and one . . . small . . . ginger . . . thing. As ordered." He drew back a bit when Susie growled at him. "Are you sure this thing's had its rabies shots?"

"She's perfectly harmless," Rachel assured him as she gripped Ava's carrier more firmly and swallowed. Jack was just . . . laying there, obviously exhausted; but he was in the visiting room, on the extra-deep couch, waiting for them. She'd been afraid that he would refuse to see them, either because he didn't think it was safe, or because he didn't want them anymore. She was terrified that Jack would decide that he was much better off without his family, without _her_.

"Well, good, come in, come in. We'll get you some breakfast, if you haven't eaten. _He_ hasn't, not for a while." Nasir watched with a smile while Rachel sat gingerly on the couch; Jack immediately wiggled up until his head was in her lap, and she caressed his face gently as she smiled down at him.

"Hate me?" he whispered as Susie unbuckled Ava.

Rachel put one hand to her lips to keep from crying. She shook her head. "No," she murmured. "I don't. Do you . . . do you still want us?"

She got a look that said he thought she'd lost her mind. "You guys want _m_e?"

"Of course we do. I love you, Jack. We all love you. We want you to get better, we, _I_ want you to trust us more. Trust _me_ more." She paused and looked over at Susie, who was showing Ava to the guards on the other side of the two-way mirror. "Do you want to come back home? To us?"

"'Course," Jack mumbled. He reached up to play with her hair and she kissed his fingers as they brushed against her cheek. "Gotta be a Daddy . . ."

Rachel took a deep breath and lowered her voice. "Are you going to stop seeing Veronica?"

Jack's eyes widened momentarily, and then he nodded. "Promise. I'm . . . I'm _sorry_, Rachel . . ."

Rachel leaned down to give him a kiss, misjudged how much her bust had increased, and gave Jack a face-full of cleavage instead. He made a very appreciative noise and gave her a few kisses before she was able to pull back, embarrassed. He was grinning up at her when she took her hands from her eyes.

"I love you, Jack," she whispered. Then she raised her voice. "Susie, come here."

Jack turned his head to watch the girl bring Ava to him, and reached an arm out. "Oh, baby . . . C'mere, baby . . ."

"I missed you, Daddy," Susie said nervously as she handed Ava over.

Jack lay Ava, still sleeping, on his chest and stared at her. Susie bit her lip and looked at Rachel, who reached out and took her hand. With one arm gently over Ava, Jack also reached out and pulled Susie up against the couch until she limbed on and lay down next to him. "Missed you, too, popsicle," he mumbled before he yawned.

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah . . . Just a little . . ."

"I'm tired, too."

"Go to sleep," Jack told her. He started humming, then singing softly. "Goodnight, sweetheart, well, it's time to go . . . Goodnight, sweetheart, well, it's time to go . . . I hate to leave you, but, I really must say . . . Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight . . ." Less than a minute later both of them were asleep, and Rachel was gently running her fingers through Jack's hair. Less than five minutes after that, she was asleep, too.


	9. Chapter 9

There was something small and squeaky on him, a solid, gentle weight that was rocking from side to side. It woke him with a start and he half-shouted, yet rather than trying to throw the thing off of his chest, his arms went around it. The warm pressure that had been at his side left, followed by a thump and a cry of protest, and then there was a comforting shushing from above him as fingers danced through his hair and covered his hands and whatever was laying on him.

"Shh, shh, Jack, wake up. It's all right, Jack, it's fine. Susie, are you okay? Jack, open your eyes."

"I'm okay . . ."

Jack finally opened his eyes and stared up at Rachel for a few moments before more soft squeaks distracted him. They were steadily turning into short squeals, punctuated by a cough or sneeze, and he looked down at his chest suddenly. His arms were around Ava, keeping her from falling off of him. That was why he'd brought his arms in, rather than throwing them out to ward off any blows coming his way.

"Oh," he coughed. "I made her cry."

Rachel laughed and stroked his hair, smoothing it behind his ears. "No, she's just hungry. If you sit up, I can feed her."

The idea certainly held some appeal. "I can help?" Jack asked hopefully as he held Ava steady with one arm and grabbed the back of the couch with the other, swinging his legs off the edge of the couch and pulling himself upright. Ava's eyes opened as soon as she was vertical, and after turning her around to face him, he wiggled his fingers at her with a grin. "Why hello, there, beautiful." She was looking mighty displeased, so Jack bent his pinky and offered her the knuckle. She latched on right away and sucked with enthusiasm. Her wide blue eyes stared up at him, and Jack stared back with equal fascination. "No way," he breathed. "Are you really mine? Did I really make you? Am I holding you right?" He looked up at Rachel. "Am I ---"

"Perfectly," she said with a smile and a nod. Her lower lip trembled and she reached out, curling her fingers at the back of Jack's neck, and he twisted just enough to leaned toward her and kiss her. Rachel exhaled shakily as she returned it, raising her other hand to his shoulder and holding it tightly.

Quite interestingly, there was nothing going on in Jack's pants at that moment. Even when he bit her lower lip and worried gently at it, even when Rachel's breath hitched and he felt her body tense, when her nails duck into his neck,, there was a distinct lack of response. It was . . . fascinating. He pulled back and closed his eyes halfway, taking deep breaths of Rachel's perfume and underlying scent, nuzzling where her throat met her jaw and kissing her gently.

Rachel laughed low in her throat before pushing him gently away. "I need to feed the baby," she whispered as he rested his forehead against hers.

"_My_ baby," he responded. He didn't want to hand Ava over, but she was starting to make more noise than he was comfortable with.

"Your baby," Rachel assured him. She reached out and gently took Ava from him, having to pull just a little to get him to let go. "Susie can show you how to burp her once she's done. We tell her bedtime stories every night," she continued, adjusting her maternity top and looking down as Ava started rooting enthusiastically. "We use the recordings you made, so she can remember your voice."

"And we show her your picture, too," Susie put in from across the room. She'd been taking the cushions off of the other couches and was making a fort, but now she crawled out and came over to Jack and Rachel. Jack was watching Ava latch on with an intensity that passed for awe, for him. When Susie crawled up on the couch he pulled her over one leg, then, when Ava was suckling intently, he draped his free arm around Rachel's shoulders and she leaned into his embrace, shifting for a while until she was comfortably leaning against Jack and feeding Ava, the construction of her top keeping her breasts covered except for minute flashes of skin.

Jack grinned down at all of them. Rachel and Ava were watching each other, Ava's brown eyes only blinking occasionally. She ate in stops and starts, suck-suck-sucking, pausing, swallowing, then repeating. She made small grunting noises as she ate, and Rachel covered one small hand with her own. Susie had Jack's hand and was playing with it, growling as it fought her hand. She was leaning back against him and seemed content, laughing and squirming when Jack suddenly tickled her stomach.

"I'm hungry," she declared as she turned in his lap and kneed him in the groin. Jack whined in pain, lifting her up by the waist and tossing her onto the couch across from him.

Rachel straightened in alarm. "Jack!"

"What?" he asked as Susie shrieked with laughter. "She put her knee right on my dick. It may not be active, but the nerves aren't dead!" He groaned a little and carefully shifted, waiting for the pain to pass. "Damn it, that hurt."

"We don't need the guards thinking you're trying to kill her," Rachel admonished.

"She knees me like that again and she Iwill/I be dead," Jack muttered darkly as he glared at Susie. "You watch where you put yourself, you hear me?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy." She crawled over and hugged his leg, and he ruffled her hair. "I'm hungry."

"I don't control the food around here, toots."

"_I_ do," Nasir said as he opened the door. "_I'm_ the _real_ brains behind this organisation. Don't let that Arkham guy tell you different." He held the door open for a nurse to wheel in a cart of food and drinks, then closed and locked the door before standing off to the side. "Lunch, courtesy of my crew."

"This is Nasir Barad," Jack introduced him. "He's as loony as the rest of us, apparently."

"We've met," Rachel said with a smile as she sat up straighter and reached for a dish. "Here, let me ---"

"Oh, don't you worry, Mrs. Dawes," Nasir said cheerfully. "You just feed the baby. Matilda'll be done soon enough."

"Nasir's too busy looking dashing to help," the nurse said with a smile for Rachel and Ava. "It's all right, ma'am, I've got this."

"If you're sure . . ."

"She's sure," Jack said as he relaxed. He tugged Rachel back. "Come here."

"I saw that blow Susie landed," Nasir went on cheerfully. "Must've hurt."

"Nothing a good blowjob wouldn't cure." Rachel elbowed him and gestured at Susie, who was frowning up at them. "Oh, wait, I can't get it up these days. Never mind."

"What's a blowjob?"

Rachel sighed noisily and glared at Jack. "It's ---"

"It involves penises," Jack interrupted.

Rachel turned to lecture him when Susie screwed her face up. "Ew! I don't wanna know!" She scooted away from Jack, around the low table, and waited patiently for the nurse to finish putting the food out. "Thank you," she told the woman.

The nurse smiled at her. "You're welcome. You have a good visit, sweetie," she said as she left.

"Okay," Susie chirped as she started dishing herself up food.

"See? No problem," Jack murmured as he kissed Rachel's cheek.

Rachel wasn't convinced. She frowned. "We'll talk about what's appropriate to say in front of children and what isn't later."

Jack leaned forward to get them both food and winked at Susie. "I'm in trouble again."

"You're always in trouble," she pointed out.

"Yeah, guess I am. Something's wrong if I'm not in trouble. So, tell me about this author guy who likes Rachel. Do I need to beat him up?"

"_Yes_," Susie said empathically. "He's rude, he's mean, he pokes me with his cane, he thinks he _smarter_ than everyone, _and_," she finished triumphantly, "_he doesn't like Ava_."

"Mr. Nashton doesn't like children in general," Rachel cut in as Jack sat back and looked at her as he handed her a plate of food. "He doesn't _dis_like children, he just . . . doesn't care for them. Sort of like you, Jack."

"I like kids," he claimed defensively.

"'Cause we're crunchy, and taste good with ketchup!" Susie giggled.

Jack scrunched his nose up at her. "Exactly! Kid en flambé is my favourite meal."

She threw her hands up, imitating flames. "Fwoosh!"

Rachel got his attention with a light touch to his arm. "Nursing baby and a plate full don't mix," she told him.

Jack took the plate from her and leaned down to kiss Ava's soft head, then forked some potato salad and offered it to Rachel. "She's got buggy eyes and a Mohawk."

Rachel snorted with laughter as she chewed, looking down at their daughter. True, Ava's eyes _did_ bug out a bit, giving he a wide-eyed look, and the majority of her curly hair lay on the top of her head and back a little. "She gets it from you."

"You're the one who had the Mohawk hair; Bethy showed me."

"I never had big eyes like that; you must have given them to her." Rachel took another bite as it was offered, rolling her eyes when Jack leaned over to lick a bit of salad from the corner of her mouth.

Susie sighed hugely from across the table and took her food into the cushion-fort she'd made and making buzzing and laser sounds once inside. Rachel let Jack feed her for a few more minutes before she raised her eyebrows at him and tilted her head toward the fort pointedly. "She really misses you," she murmured.

Jack had to think for a moment about what Rachel wanted. Then he nodded and set his now-empty plate on the table before sliding to his knees and crawling around to the back of the fort. Susie's feet stuck out, her shoes under the couch, and he grabbed her ankles and yanked with a huge growl. Susie shrieked and toppled the fort as she flailed. Jack flipped her onto her back and snarled as his fingers found her ribs and dug in, and her shrieks of protest became shrieks of laughter.

"No, Daddy, no!" she gasped, kicking at Jack's stomach and showing at his arms and hands. "Don't tickle me, Daddy!"

They were both laughing as Jack kept tickling. "Arrr! Rawr! You can't get away from me!" He pulled her shirt up and then blew a huge raspberry on her stomach, which induced more howling laughter. "Om nom nom nom nom!"

"Aaaaah! No! Don't eat me, noooooo!" There were tears of laughter in Susie's eyes when Jack pulled back, and he let her go when he got a foot in the jaw. He reeled back and Susie scrambled up, head butting him in the chest and jumping on him when he fell back with a cough.

"You think you can beat me?" he asked with a laugh.

"Yeah!" Susie was going for his sides, but Jack lifted her up by the waist and held her above him, grinning at her. She kicked and reached for him, her fingers centimetres from his face, and growled.

"God, you're like an ROUS," he told her, shaking her a little. Susie reacted by opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out at him, wiggling it around as she growled. "Hallo!" he intoned. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!"

"You keep on using that word," Susie replied. "I do not think it means what you think it means."

"Fezzick! Are those rocks ahead?"

"If they are, we all be dead!"

"No more rhymes now, I mean it," Rachel cut in as Ava let her nipple go.

"Anybody want a peanut?" Jack and Susie chorused. Then Jack let Susie fall to his chest, holding her tightly as the two of them laughed.

"Come here and burp Ava," Rachel said as she smiled. She didn't know how much of this Jack was faking, but he seemed happy, seemed like he was doing well. There was a sense of released tension in him as he and Susie untangled and nudged each other as they crawled over to her feet; Doctor Morgenson must have been minimizing the severity of Jack's stress when she'd spoken with him. She patted the seat next to her and Jack reclaimed it, and then she kissed him as she handed the baby over. "Helna made her the onsie."

Jack kissed her back, took Ava, and held her up, his hands beneath her armpits and his fingers holding her head up as he read the onesie and grinning hugely. "'Daddy's Little Anarchist' . . . Hah! Damn right you are!" He laughed and brought Ava in to rub his nose against hers; his mother had done that. It had always made him laugh. Then he looked at Rachel with raised eyebrows. "What do I do?" he asked as he. "Is it like burping the Mitzi-thing?"

"Exactly like that," Rachel nodded, pleased that he liked the onesie. "Just be a little more gentle." Jack let Rachel put a burp-rag on his shoulder, then gently lay Ava against it and pat her on the back.

Susie watched him for a moment, then climbed up onto the couch with them. "Put her up more, Daddy. Put her tummy on . . . What's this part called?" she asked, touching his collarbone. "Put her tummy right there and it makes her burp better."

"It's my collarbone," Jack told her, shifting Ava. The baby made a small noise, then burped a little. "Hey, it worked."

"Duh," Susie told him. "I'm the best at burping Ava. I'm even better than Charles."

"I'm not sure Charles has a maternal bone in her body, so I don't see how that's an achievement. Go pick up the cushions."

"Bones can't be maternal; they're _bones_," Susie muttered as she slid off the couch and picked a cushion up. "Ew! It fell on my food!"

"Why were you eating on the floor?"

Susie frowned and looked at the floor, shrugging and muttering, "'Cause you and Rachel were eating together."

"Oh. Well, the staff'll clean it up." Jack leaned his cheek against Ava's head gently before kissing her, rocking a bit as she let out a few more burps.

Rachel sighed and reached for a napkin, but Nasir, who had been quietly watching from the corner, stepped forward. "Don't worry about it, Mrs. Dawes. Matilda'll take care of it."

"I didn't mean to make a mess," Susie said. "Daddy scared me."

"It's fine," Nasir assured her. He piled the soiled cushions against the wall and Susie helped him.

While dragging a cushion, she let it drop and then got on her hands and knees, looking under the table. "Hey! There are games under here! Can we play one?"

"You've got another hour," Nasir reminded them. Jack glared at him and moved Ava into the crook of his arm, taking the burp-rag and dabbing at her mouth. Then he held her protectively, like Nasir was going to take her away any moment. "Hey, it's not my fault, Dawes. I just enforce the rules. You're lucky to get visiting rights at all. Tell her about Wayne."

Jack perked up. "Oh, yeah." He grinned at Rachel. "They're moving me in with Brucey in a couple weeks."

"_What_?!" Rachel stared at him as he grinned and grinned, and Susie hollered and threw herself at his legs, hugging them tightly. "Why?"

"What, you're not happy?" Jack asked.

"No, I am, I am, just . . . Iwhy/I?"

"I'm gonna lose it if I stay here much longer," he explained with a shrug, looking down at Ava as her eyelids fluttered. He offered his pinky knuckle and she sucked it out of reflex. "They figure, it's safer for you guys to come visit me there, and they can make sure I don't leave."

"You and Bruce hate each other."

Jack laughed softly. "I never hated Bruce, moonshine. I'm quite fond of him. I'm sure we'll be fine; hell be at one end of the house, I'll be at the other, and Alfred'll snipe me if I try to leave." He paused for a few moments, then looked out the corner of his eye at his wife. "Are you happy?" he asked again, quietly.

Rachel covered her mouth and looked at him. In the corner, Nasir shifted, possibly picking up on Jack's subtle tenseness. Jack, out of Arkham. Jack, in Gotham --- or close enough to it. Jack, under the care of Bruce and Alfred. Jack, where he could see his baby every weekend, where he could see _her_ every weekend.

"I'll still have therapy, I'll still be on drugs, I'll still be under constant surveillance," he murmured, returning his attention to Ava. "I'll just . . . be out of Arkham. Be able to see you guys more often. You don't like the idea."

"I love the idea, Jack," Rachel reassured him. "I really do. I'm just worried about how legal it is. I don't want you locked away because we did something wrong."

"Well, Doc and Arkham both told me it was fine." He was getting snappy, his chest stinging a little when he thought that she didn't really want him that free.

"They can make suggestions and recommendations," Rachel told him. "They can't say for sure, if you get that much freedom."

"Yeah, well, they're putting a tracking chip in me, and they said they're fortifying Wayne Manor to make sure I don't get out. Unless Bruce is lying in order to get me thrown away for good ---"

"I don't think he'd lie about that," Rachel said soothingly. "This just seems . . . It's too good to be true."

They were quiet for a moment, Susie clutching a game box to her chest and looking between them with worried eyes. Then Jack shook himself. "Okay, sure," he said. "What do you wanna play, popsicle?"

"This one . . ."

"Well, let's play." He looked at Rachel again as he helped Susie set the game up one-handed. "Why don't you call Hideki, ask about it?" Rachel had been shuffling cards, but now she bent to the task with much more gusto, her hair falling in her face. Jack let it go for a few turns, mulling it around in his head. "He hasn't called you, has he."

"No," she said shortly. "Susie, your turn."

Jack took a deep breath as Susie rolled the dice and moved her piece. He knew Raoul hadn't known much about what had been about to happen. The kid hadn't been trusted with that information, and Jack said so. Rachel closed her eyes and pressed the pads of her fingers against them. "Rachel, Raoul couldn't have known. I . . . made sure that he was telling me the truth. And he trusted me. I told him I had everything under control, and he trusted me. I was wrong. It wasn't his fault."

"Shut up," Rachel muttered. She flipped her hand toward Nasir and the mirror, indicating that they weren't completely alone, and her lower lip trembled as Jack took his turn.

They were just finishing up when Nasir gave them a five-minute warning. Rachel didn't take Ava back until it was time to go. Jack was holding Susie on his hip and Ava over his shoulder, and Rachel leaned into his chest while Nasir opened the door. She looked up at him and he kissed her softly, giving her a smile.

"You're coming back tomorrow?"

"Of course," Rachel nodded. "I can make Janet come, if you want to see her."

"No," Jack said. He shook his head. "No, she'll come see me when she wants to. Tell her I said hi, but don't _make_ her come. And . . . Susie, go wait outside." He hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. "I miss you, popsicle."

"I love you, Daddy." Susie slid to the floor and Nasir held his hand out. "I'll be back tomorrow!"

"Me, too," Jack told her. Nasir took her out and he turned back to Rachel as soon as the door closed. "So. Uh, Janet and Dick, uh . . ." He frowned. He didn't quite know how to say what he wanted to say.

"Mom took them both to her place to help her move furniture. I guess she ordered a new set." Rachel reached up and was touching his face gently, fingering his hair, and Jack smiled.

"Yeah. He really likes her, huh?" She nodded. "Well . . . Look, I'm just sayin', I'm not an expert, but . . . Janet's probably scared shitless of sex right now, but that doesn't mean she doesn't still want it, right?" Rachel frowned a bit and nodded. "And dick, well . . . He's there for her, see? Just wants to make her happy? Is a guy, and therefore thinks he's got a magical healing cock that can make all her troubles go away, including cancer and lesbianism?"

That made Rachel laugh, even as serious as the situation was. "Do you want me to encourage her to take advantage of him, or warn her against it?"

"Do whatever you think you need to, sweet cheeks. It was just a thought, you know? I don't want any more traumatised people around me." Rachel pulled him down for a serious kiss and he sighed as he melted into her arms. After a moment there was a knock on the door and they pulled apart, and Jack lifted Ava up and kissed her cheeks as she looked around in wide-eyed wonder. "You be good, minion," he told her, then brought her in for another hug before kneeling down and buckling her in her carrier. He traced the letters on her onesie with a smile. "Damn right, you're my little anarchist. _Damn_ right." Nasir opened the door again and Jack stood up, handed Ava to Rachel, and hugged her tightly. "Get me out of here before I go crazy," he murmured in her ear. "My tongue needs some exercise."

"Jack!" Rachel giggled. "We'll be back tomorrow. I love you. Be good."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah. I will. Me, too. Just go." He watched them walk off, looking back at him frequently, and then sat heavily once they were out of sight and cradled his head in his hands.

Nasir gave him time to collect himself.


End file.
